


stupid love

by SilverMoonT



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Time Skip, Third Year Miya Osamu, Third Year Suna Rintarou
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:49:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverMoonT/pseuds/SilverMoonT
Summary: "Shut up.""Make me."Osamu closes his eyes to avoid letting out a sigh.He has lived long enough to know the intentions behind those words, but with Suna nothing is ever established, so he opens his eyes again. He wonders why if words are nothing more than a simple set of words, then they can be accompanied by a range of intentions that he is often unable to decipher.
Relationships: Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 36
Kudos: 155
Collections: SunaOsa





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy sunaosa day ❤
> 
> implied: atsukita, kuroaka, kaoyukie
> 
> there's a knife mention, i'm saying it just in case, so if you don't want to read it skip the paragraph that starts with "Suna watches him in silence for a few seconds,"

"Did you have fun today?" Suna asks him, a gray ceiling being his sight.

Osamu thinks that yes, he had fun. "Yeah, it was good... seeing the others again."

Suna allows an entertaining smile to caress his face upon hearing the answer to his question. "I think what you mean is that you are glad that Kita-san has come to stop your brother from bothering you, because your brother stops being aware of his surroundings when Kita-san appears." He stops looking at the same boring color to turn his head and watch Osamu.

Osamu turns his head towards him at the same time and doesn't hesitate to roll his eyes when he sees the smiling gesture in his expression. "Don't read my mind." He says.

"I can't do that." Suna assures him, his smile narrowing.

"I'm lucky." Osamu gives him a fake smile before lowering his gaze to move his free arm and grab one of the cake squares that are on the plate that happens to be the only thing that keeps their bodies from touching, as they are lying side by side on his bed.

He doesn’t seem like it but his personal space is essential for him. He is used to Atsumu crashing his bubble because they are brothers and their task as such is to evade and break boundaries with each other, and with the other person whose company has also become a custom, it’s Suna. Head on shoulder. Fingers in locks. Hand on one arm. Hand on thigh. Every afternoon they pass side by side, sometimes with words in between, sometimes only in silence, the notifications from Suna's phone being the only sound. Small moments have led him to adjust to the presence of Suna.

"Yeah." Suna changes his position by resting his elbow on the mattress and placing his body on his side to copy his actions. He takes another of the squares of vanilla cake with cream that had been left from the birthday celebration that had already taken place several hours ago. "You're lucky," He looks at him again.

"For being here with ya? Maybe." Osamu agrees.

Ironically, he doesn't consider himself lucky. Or maybe yes, a little bit.

Liking someone and not knowing how to express it out loud, or spending all the hours of the day thinking about the possible consequences if you decide to transform all your feelings into words, is not something that implies good luck. It means, in fact, bad luck. Osamu does consider himself lucky because at that time he is with Suna, but he doesn’t consider himself a person with good luck in general. Sometimes he thinks that luck doesn’t exist or that it’s not worth resting his hopes on it, but there are other times, in the middle of the night when he can’t sleep, and he doesn’t wake up Atsumu because sometimes, just sometimes, he is a good brother, that he thinks to rest all his thoughts on luck. Maybe he just needs a pinch of it. Or a whole bucket.

"Shut up." Suna bites his lip and Osamu smiles as he rests his eyes on that gesture. "Lucky because your brother isn't here." Osamu interlocks their eyes because he can only afford seconds of luck, a hint of freedom.

"That too." He agrees.

Suna chuckles before lying down next to him and looking at the ceiling again. Osamu copies him although he would rather continue to have the opportunity to admire his profile. Maybe he can consider himself lucky. Suna has agreed to stay over after the little party they had held in honor of him and Atsumu's birthday. They invited the people on the team and some classmates with whom they have a good relationship. It was a quiet party, where Osamu tried not to attract attention while his brother didn’t hesitate to monopolize it for him.

"Does sharing birthday bother you?" He hears Suna ask him.

"I'm used to it," He answers sincerely, no kind of annoyance accompanying his words. "Also, he enjoys the attention and I don't care. Everyone wins." He adds, thinking about the party. He is thankful that people had attended and had a great night. But unlike the others, who had laughed at Atsumu's jokes as well as listened to his words, Suna had stayed close to him, laughing in the same way he did when Atsumu did something awkward. It’s true that everyone pays attention to Atsumu, but Suna turns out to be the exception. Maybe he is a bit lucky. Or maybe Suna is just as fed up with Atsumu as he is. "I'm used to sharing everything."

His birthday, his room. The team. Facial features. Last name.

"Not me."

Osamu lets out a laugh as fake as his calmness. "He is the captain and yer the vice-captain. What are ya talking about? You spend all yer time with him."

He knows Suna turns around to look at him but he's still staring at the ceiling.

"I have to. But I am with you now."

"I like that." Osamu allows their gazes to meet again as he turns his head.

Sometimes Osamu wonders if he is a coward or if he is a brave person. He doesn’t express his true feelings aloud but he does it through some phrases that he dares to pronounce only because he knows that Suna is used to hearing him. Isn't it more courageous to repress your feelings rather than release them? Suppressing feelings is suffering, and you have to dare to suffer, to hurt yourself because of emotions that you can’t control. Or are you a coward because talking about the reasons why your heart beats should be the easiest task?

"I'm not an object to be fought over anyway." Suna says.

"I never said you were. Have I ever made ya feel that way?"

"Never." Suna replies before looking back at the ceiling. "It's just, you guys fight over everything."

Osamu wonders how many times he has had —and continues to have— the opportunity to observe Suna's profile. He doesn’t answer his own question, since as he is somewhat lucky, he is able to say that he has lost count. Class, practice, the bus, their houses. "Not for Kita-san. ‘tsumu can keep him." He says.

"I think we all have a little crush on Kita-san, don't you think?"

Osamu raises both eyebrows, he can believe it. He doesn’t even have to be part of the Inarizaki volleyball team to have a crush on Kita. His facial features are graceful, and he has a personality that would be nice to introduce to any type of parent. His expression is serene but a glance is enough to instill fear. He’s serious but it’s worth seeing his smile every time he allows it to appear on his face. He and the rest of the team miss him. "Maybe."

And somehow, his brother has managed to win over Kita.

Maybe he is lucky. Because he didn't fall in love with Kita. What a disgrace that would have been, for just as there are some promises that are made only to be broken, there are other codes that can’t be broken under any circumstances.

Suna again changes position after leaving his arm on the mattress and turning his body to use his own hand as a pillow. "And you know, if Kita-san likes your brother, I think he must like you too, at least a little bit."

The seriousness is noticeable on Osamu's face.

"Oh, thank you for assuming that my brother and I are the same. I thought the hair color helped." The sarcasm highlighting his words is worth it as it gets Suna to decorate his face with a smile and the moment with his laugh.

He likes Suna’s smile. He likes Suna.

_Damn._

"You have to dye it again." Suna shifts his gaze to his hair as well as his hand. Osamu's eyes move to the portion of skin that he leaves exposed between the edge of his white shirt and the beginning of his light gray pants, but he looks up again when he feels Suna's fingers between his locks, from the movement knowing that he is probably admiring his black roots. "I didn't mean that you know," Osamu wants Suna to keep stroking his hair because the action gives him peace of mind, but he doesn't complain when he stops doing it as it implies having the chance to interlock gazes with him again. "I'm just saying that it would be silly to think that your brother is pretty and you are not."

Osamu stops keeping a hand under his head and therefore an elbow out after turning around and allowing the covers to caress his torso, since while Suna is wearing pants and a white shirt, he only wears his pants equal to those of Suna but of a darker grayish hue. They are in the first days of October but he is not cold, much less does he feel the winter weather when the window of the room that at that time turns out to be the only source of light to cast shadows on their faces, it’s closed. He feels that any kind of cold disappears from his body when he is with Suna.

He crosses his arms under his chin to use them as a pillow, as well as a refuge for the smile that he can’t help but hold after spotting Suna with his eyes on the muscles of his back. He is not a daily show like his brother, who in the morning never hesitates to flex his arms to assure him that he is gaining more muscle. They both know it’s a lie, as every time they fight, he shows that he has evidence to confirm that he is stronger. He doesn't want to be a show, but managing to steal an unexpected look doesn’t feel bad at all. "D’you think my brother is pretty?"

Suna's gaze immediately returns to him. "I don't want to answer that."

"You think I'm pretty?"

Suna watches him for a few seconds, and Osamu wants to know how many thoughts can go through his head in such a short period of time.

"When you're quiet."

Osamu narrows his gaze but then settles further into his arms. "I think yer pretty."

"Really?"

Yes, Osamu wants to nod his head and answer yes.

He doesn't remember when he began to consider that boys can be pretty, or when he first thought Suna is pretty. But he knows that time has passed and that his opinion has not changed.

It’s true that Atsumu and he are different and that sometimes they don’t tolerate each other because they are either very different, or also very equal, but he also knows that despite all the fights, Atsumu is there for him as he is for Atsumu. Brave or coward? He was brave in telling his brother that girls aren't the only people who get his attention, and he's a coward because he knows Atsumu is waiting for him to confess his feelings.

Suna is pretty, he would be a fool if he tried to deny it. He sees how people look at him. Every Valentine’s Day he witnesses his desk full of chocolates, Suna reminding him by saying, _"Ha, I have more chocolates than you"_ , but Osamu knows that Suna doesn't like chocolate, so he doesn't care. He doesn't want to be one of the bunch so he doesn't leave a letter. Being an unknown face is not in his plans, and hiding behind anonymous words doesn’t appeal to him. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t express, he doesn’t tell the truth.

He wants to be the only one. Suna is pretty, and he knows it.

"Pretty stupid." He says instead.

He is not lying after all. They are both in the same class and grades have nothing to do with it. Suna forgets the smallest and most insignificant details that ends up being funny. He remembers birthdays, names, and if you happen to see a post on Instagram but your phone just scrolls on its own, Suna will remember all the existing details until you find the post again. But sometimes he forgets his tie, to tie his laces, and to close the door of his locker.

"Shut up." Suna bites his lower lip and falls back onto the mattress.

"To be pretty? Hey, I'm quiet most of the time. So I’m pretty."

Suna shakes his head and looks at him.

"We are in the same class. Learn to draw your own conclusions."

"Let's not talk about classes please."

"Volleyball?"

"Nope."

"Food?"

"’kay."

They don’t move when their elbows touch.

"You never tell me what your favorite food is."

"I can’t choose."

"You can't not have a favorite food."

"Well, I don't have it."

"What if I gave you a choice right now, what would you eat?"

Osamu thinks. He's been eating the cake leftovers since the others left. He can still feel the taste of vanilla mixed with cream on his palate, making him wonder if he’s satisfied because on his birthdays people always choose his cake over Atsumu's, even Kita. Who else would prefer a cake made of fruit over cream? Only Atsumu. His mother never lets him cook for his birthday because she says the cake is a gift too. He doesn't complain, pastry is not his strong suit anyway. He has to improve. He has to learn to balance his cooking skills in all areas of the kitchen.

Balance.

That is what he needs.

"Pizza," He answers.

If he ate sweet, he needs salty.

"Then pizza is your favorite food."

Osamu lets out a sigh.

He thinks that Suna transforms his words into what he wants.

"But that's cuz ya asked me now."

"Would you have a pizza now?"

"Of course I would. A super big portion, like this." He moves so that he can stop keeping his arms under his chin and force Suna to do the same after extending his arms and covering almost the entire width of his bed. Suna looks at his arms, then at him, and raises an eyebrow. "What?"

"Only that?"

Osamu rolls his eyes. Sometimes he feels that Suna speaks only to annoy him. He doesn't complain about it, he does the same. "Oh, sorry." The sarcasm is evident in his words. "What is the appropriate portion?"

Suna copies him by rolling his eyes after hearing him, and Osamu turns his head as he follows the movement of the arm that Suna passes over him to place his hand on the edge of his bed, but once he turns his head again, he doesn’t care where Suna's other hand is, marking a non-existent measurement for a pizza, as he is too focused on the small, but existing, and real, too real distance that separates their faces after Suna has moved.

Osamu wonders if he's lucky, if Suna is stupid or doesn't realize what he's doing just by wanting to show him something as stupid as the size of an imaginary pizza.

"Like this." Suna expresses, feeling his gaze between his hands, which he left on the mattress to define the size and just take him against his words. "A super large pizza."

Osamu's eyes fall to his lips, a mouth he probably thinks about more than he should. He is not stupid. Well, it depends on how he reads the situation. He might be. But not at that moment. He falls on his bed after extending his elbows to the sides of his head and clasping his hands under his cheek to occupy all the space that Suna had delimited with his hands. "Like this." He copies.

Suna chuckles before laying down in the same way, with the only difference being that he does it on Osamu's back, that way making an instant smile appear on Osamu’s face at the thought that he had been smart to think of not using a shirt for that occasion; since the contact of the skin of his back with Suna's arms is enough to make him think that he is not a fool, nor is he innocent. He feels the palms of Suna's hands spread out on his back, but doesn’t miss the slight movement he makes with his fingertips.

"You are capable of eating all that for yourself."

"I am and yer not."

"I am, and _yer_ not."

"Don’t imitate m—"

"I know I'm not capable," Suna agrees, and Osamu doesn't look at him when Suna raises his head to look at him. "I'll be fine with the cake."

Osamu wonders when he allowed all of this to happen.

At what point did he go from bothering Atsumu when he discovered that he likes Kita to becoming the bothered of the two because now, Atsumu, happy in his relationship with Kita, is the one that annoys him since he still doesn’t dare to confess to Suna what he feels.

Or maybe he does. In the end it’s a confession, a storm of words along with a tide of feelings.

What he doesn’t dare to think is the consequences behind the phrases loaded with honesty, it’s not encouraged to think about what can happen in case of expressing a confession out loud. He wonders how many confessions Suna has received in his life, if any of them have ever caught his attention. Osamu doesn’t want to think about Suna listing the reasons of why his heartbeat exists for someone else, so at that moment he decides to make his own kind of confession, to pronounce the most important words for him. The phrase that his brother has mocked him so many times for and he reserved because although he never thought it would be Suna, he did hope to say them at some point in his life.

"Eat what's left."

It's stupid, a confession doesn't sound like that. But for him, someone who can’t decide what his favorite food is, they are the purest and most emotional words of love he can express without truly exposing himself and his heart.

He rolls his eyes when he sees Suna and is met with a surprised face. "Are you leaving me the last piece? Wow." The surprise in his voice is as honest as it’s false. "Growing up changes you."

"Shut up." He murmurs against his own arm.

"Make me."

Osamu closes his eyes so as not to let out a sigh. He has lived long enough to know the intentions behind those words, but with him and Suna, nothing is ever established, so he opens his eyes again. He wonders why if words are nothing more than a simple set of words, then they can be accompanied by a range of intentions that he is often unable to decipher. "Eat that or I will."

Finally he stops being leaning on his arms and sits on his bed when Suna does so to sit cross-legged with the plate between them. Only one square of the cake remains and Suna takes it. "Thanks for leaving this to me," He says, feeling his gaze between him and the cake in his fingers.

"It's just cake."

"Yeah, but for someone who doesn't know what his favorite food is, this gesture is worth gold."

"Exactly. Consider yerself lucky."

They've played together long enough for him to know that Suna can read any player on the other side of the net, which is why he wonders if he's also started reading those he should consider his own allies within the volleyball court. He wonders, if Suna is stupid for not understanding his intentions, or worse, if he's smart and plays dumb because he's not interested in the intentions behind a gesture as simple as leaving him the last piece of cake. Anyway, he thinks that the first option is the correct one when a little bit of cream remains in one of the corners of Suna's mouth.

"Weren't you the lucky one?" Suna asks him after listening to him.

Osamu lifts one corner of his mouth to form a smile.

He is, sometimes.

Suna's eyes follow the movement of his hand when Osamu brings his thumb to his face, but then the golden of his gaze falls on Osamu when he wipes what apparently was left of cake on his face. Certainly, he gets his confession to end up being a not-so-failed-attempt of telling the truth because he savors the last trace of cream with his tongue.

"Maybe we both are."

Osamu decides to lie down with his hands under his head and his elbows out, surprising himself and, congratulating himself, for looking so calm when in reality he is hoping that the heat inside him won’t express itself in the form of a blush on his face. He took the moment for himself by transforming it into a chance to touch Suna's face.

"Maybe." Suna repeats in a lower voice.

He lays next to him, face down and using the palms of his hand as a pillow. Osamu wonders what would happen if Suna had decided to use his chest as a pillow.

"Thanks for coming today." He says, instead.

Always _instead_.

Suna tilts his head and holds a small smile. "I came for the food."

"Who are ya? Me?"

"You just confessed that you only go to my birthdays for the food."

"Well," Osamu teases, and smirks when Suna taps him lightly on the ribs.

"Everyone says Atsumu is the bad guy but you are just as bad as him."

"Correction." Osamu moves one of his hands to hold his finger up. "He is like me."

Suna raises both eyebrows and rests one elbow on the mattress as well as his cheek in the palm of his hand. "Really? Does that mean that you are the older brother? I didn’t know that."

"You don't know everything about me, and no, I’m the, as he says, baby brother."

Suna giggles.

Osamu pronounces those words because Suna doesn't know that he likes him.

He doesn't know that there’s so much he wants to say and so much he wants to demonstrate and do. He doesn’t know that sometimes he feels bad about his own decisions because there are ulterior motives behind it. Ask him to stay the night, to accompany him somewhere to eat. But at the same time guilt doesn’t stop him because he no longer has to ask. Suna appears with a backpack on his shoulder, ready to spend the night without needing him to ask, and without a word, they both walk away from the rest of the group when they lose a practice match and Osamu needs food to get rid of his bad mood. It just happens.

"Sorry mystery boy."

"I don't know everything ‘bout ya."

Suna smiles again, and Osamu feels himself faint. "No, you don't."

"Anything you want to confess?"

"Well, I'm not an assassin or a ninja."

For the way Osamu sometimes thinks what kind of slow death he is living whenever he finds himself in conflict with himself and his emotions, and for the way Suna has managed to take control of both his brain and his heart without himself not noticing nor agreeing; Osamu disagrees with his words.

"I was thinking of some joke but hey, your words leave me calm."

"Or maybe I am." Suna suggests.

"Really? And what are ya doing here then?"

Suna purposely looks around, seeming to search around them for the answer as he raises his head to approach Osamu. "Maybe you are my target."

Osamu wants to laugh. Of course that is Suna's goal.

In the middle of his chest two invisible crossed lines show that he is ready to accept being Suna's target. To accept feelings is to embrace the lack of control and transform the lack of rationality into a cross in the center of his body. Osamu is ready for Suna to rest his hand on his chest and apply pressure, to tighten the skin under his fingertips because just as many times he feels that Suna's company allows him to breathe, many other times he feels that his constant presence by his side suffocates him.

Stupid love, Osamu thinks. He is willing to give it all.

"Who paid ya? ‘tsumu? With what? With tosses?"

"No joke, I wouldn’t do it for tosses."

"How d’you plan to end me?"

_By existing, by breathing. It’s his ruin. Suna is his ruin._

Suna watches him in silence for a few seconds, and then forms a fist with his hand to rest the base on Osamu's chest, who hopes that his heartbeat will not betray him. "A knife, like that." Suna raises his hand and lowers it again slowly. He opens the palm of his hand on his chest and sticks out his tongue as if he were the victim himself, making Osamu smile.

"That's not smart."

It’s not smart to allow Suna to be so close to him, with his hand on his chest, close to his heart. Skin to skin. It’s not smart to allow himself that moment of intimacy that in reality is not so because they always maintain some kind of physical contact every time they are together.

"Well, you said I'm pretty stupid. Theory confirmed."

"I didn't mean it," Osamu assures him. "Although you are a little bit, just a little bit."

Suna finally removes his hand from his chest and laughs. "I know." He agrees.

"Yer hungry?" He asks him.

"No, I’m fine. You?"

"I'm always hungry."

_For you._

"I'm not surprised."

"For your birthday I can bake a cake," He offers. "Well, try to."

He is still aware that baking is not his strong suit, but he thinks he might be capable of expanding his skills in a couple of months it if his mother authorizes the kitchen to be his place to practice until he succeeds.

"I would like that."

He will definitely ask his mom for permission. "Really?" He asks, surprised anyway. "You always refuse." Osamu reminds him, since every time he had offered to make a cake for a special occasion, Suna had said no.

"Well," Osamu watches him as Suna lowers his eyes to look at his hands, some of his fingers still bandaged from practice. "It will be the last birthday we will spend together."

"Huh? What d’you mean?"

"I don't know what we'll be doing in a year." Suna looks up.

"But yer sure that I won’t spend yer birthday with ya."

"Do you want to continue spending my birthdays with me?"

Now that he thinks about it, Osamu never considered the possibility that everything would end, that everything familiar would become unknown, something alien only because graduation is closer than they think. "Yes," He says, since not sharing more classes together or wearing the same uniform doesn’t get him to change his mind.

"Then I'll invite you."

Graduating still seems like a long way off when it's really only a couple of months. Crossed days and Inarizaki will become a part of the past, but _who needs memories_ , right?

Osamu stares at the ceiling of his room with an unconscious pout on his face. "Last birthday huh…" Now it's all about the last. Last year playing together. Last volleyball tournament. Last practice. Last month, last week of classes. Last day. Graduation. Farewell. Goodbye.

"Let's not start talking about it please," Suna asks.

Osamu looks at Suna, who is still looking at his hands.

"You started."

"I know, but please don't."

He takes the opportunity to watch him, realizing that Suna doesn’t seem to be entirely comfortable with the subject either. He doesn't think it's easy. Last year they had to say goodbye to Kita, Aran, Oomimi and Akagi, and now they have to get ready to receive their diplomas, take photos, and say goodbye.

"You haven't used yer phone, what's wrong?" Osamu asks him.

Suna looks up and arches an eyebrow. "Do you want me to use it?"

"No, it just catches my attention."

"I'm with you." Suna assures him, and it’s so _simple_ yet so _complicated_.

Osamu believes that behind those words there is something special, a certain magic that doesn’t want to become a reality. Because just as for him a confession is to leave the last piece of food, a love letter from Suna implies not using his phone while they talk to each other. "But I'll use it if you want it so much." But neither he nor Suna consider romance like the others, so Suna leans a little closer to put his arm over him to grab his phone from the nightstand. He unlocks it and Osamu avoids laughing when his eyes narrow when the brightness of the screen lights up his face.

"Suna leave it." Osamu asks trying not to laugh.

"Oh look, a new post," Suna says instead.

"Suna."

"On twitter." Osamu takes the phone from him as soon as he sees Suna move his thumb across the screen. "Hey!" Suna exclaims, getting both of them to end up completely close because the twins' mother had asked them not to scream. The two cover their mouths to keep from laughing as Osamu ends up lying on his side. "Give me my phone." Suna asks in a lower voice, Osamu leaving his hand with the phone behind his back, again the darkness accompanying them. Osamu knows that if Suna wants to, he can take his phone. "Give it to me." Suna moves but Osamu stretches his arm out of his reach, so Suna lets out a sigh and rests his eyes on him. "Give it to me. What do you want in exchange?" There are so many answers and options that Osamu is capable of offering to that answer. "Give it to me or I'll kick you out of my bed."

Osamu raises both eyebrows upon hearing him and a small smile plays on his face. "This is my bed."

"Won't you give it to me?"

Osamu realizes that it’s actually true, he always hears others reproach Suna that he is with his phone in hand, but as soon as he begins to think about all the moments they spend together, he can’t remember Suna's phone between them because Suna tells the truth and it’s a reality that he doesn’t use his phone when he is with him. "Here," He says anyway, and decides to take his wrist gently so that Suna opens the palm of his hand and leaves the phone on it. "I already understood that a phone is better than me." He says only because if he can't afford to answer that he wants a kiss in return, then he can create the opportunity for himself to be jealous of a simple electronic device.

He leans back and looks at the ceiling, but no screen illuminates the room again.

"You're a fool," Suna says, his face popping into his field of vision as he again stretches his arm over him to leave his phone on the nightstand.

Osamu looks at him. "Then why are ya here?" Suna looks at him.

"Exactly. I'm going," He implies, starting to move. "I'll sleep in Atsumu's bed."

"What?"

An action as simple as swallowing becomes the most arduous work for Osamu when Suna invades his visual field, his personal space after leaving the palms of his hands at the sides of his head as well as the knees at the sides of his legs but no part of his body is touched. Osamu knows it’s only a matter of inches for him to lift his head and turn the moment into something totally different, but the fact that Suna has moved to assure him that he is in an emotional, and now physical, prison is enough for him to remain as he is.

"Goodbye. Good night." Suna shifts over him, assuring him that sleeping side by side as they are used to won’t be a reality.

"Suna." Osamu calls out to him when Suna sits on the edge of his bed. "Suna."

"Ah, I will know what it feels to sleep on a top bunk."

Osamu imprisons his wrist with his hand because Suna gets up but sits down again as soon as their skins form contact again. "Don’t go."

Suna lowers his gaze to his hand and then rests his eyes on him.

"Do you want me or not?"

Suna expresses those words with a tone of voice as serious as his facial features that Osamu allows doubt to eat away at his thoughts. He wonders if there is another question hidden behind that one, if there are unsaid but established words that he is supposed to be able to read. The answer in his head is clear because he is aware that he is constantly thinking about an affirmation to it, yet the uncertainty produces fear and the fear of change is greater because he doesn’t want to invite discomfort into his room.

"What d’you mean?" He asks _instead_ of answering. "I want ya here. I gave ya the last piece of cake, what more do you need." Again, a confession that is not an imitation, but honest after all.

"Right." Osamu lets go of Suna's wrist when instead of getting up, his words seem to be enough for him to choose to back down and now it’s his back that meets Osamu's torso, he letting out a slight complaint at the sudden movement, though he prefers that instead of a void next to him. "So it did hurt you that I ate it." He adds with his arms spread out on the mattress, and Osamu thinks that just as his core strength allows Suna to be a middle blocker worthy of admiration and attention, it also gives him the opportunity to arch his back that way without being disturbed.

"I gave it to ya."

"But it hurt." Suna stops looking at the ceiling to turn his head towards him.

"No, Suna." Osamu assures him and takes off part of his torso so that he can rest his elbows on the mattress. "Yer comfortable?"

"A lot."

"Yer heavy."

"Your fault, your food. But if you complain so much," Osamu again lets a complaint leave his lips when Suna turns around to settle next to him again, but instead of settling close to him as they had previously been doing, Suna grabs the pillow that is actually his and hugs it with his arms.

"Wow. The betrayal." Osamu expresses upon seeing him. "You just said that I'm comfortable."

"Jealous?" Suna asks with a smile playing on his face.

Osamu wants to answer that yes, just as he is jealous of a phone, he can also feel jealous of a pillow, because although they sleep side by side, they don’t hug, don’t touch, there is no movement that gets the mixed signals to end. "I see how things are," He opts to say. "You replace me with a pillow." It’s the only thing he adds before deciding to join the same game and lie down as he turns his back on him after looking the other way.

"Don't turn around." He hears Suna say.

"Talk to yer pillow."

"Osamu."

"I think there’s somethin’, I think I can hear a buzzing behind me, I think it's a flyOUCH!" He exclaims as he feels a sudden punch on his shoulder, and turns his head to look at Suna close to him along with a big annoyed smile on his face.

"Vampire." Suna says. "Not fly."

"Is this the part of the movie where ya tell me yer a vampire?"

"Would you let me taste your blood?"

Osamu doesn't respond immediately and Suna raises both eyebrows without being impressed. "I mean, it's like food to ya, right?"

Suna rolls his eyes as Osamu rests his back on the mattress. "You are unbelievable."

"Thank you."

"Fool. Do you ever stop thinking about food?"

Osamu wonders if words connect inside Suna's brain in that way only to annoy him, because there is so much he wants to say, so many words he wants to express and answers to give, but he can only limit himself to offering answers full of lies.

"No." He says, knowing that if he's not thinking about food, he's thinking about him.

But it still seems to be enough because Suna giggles. "I can't sleep, I ate a lot of sugar," He says, but then he looks at Osamu with a raised eyebrow. "You gave me the last piece of cake on purpose, right? To not be able to sleep."

"Now yer the vampire who protects me while I sleep."

"Huh? You don't even pay me for that."

"Block all enemies, middle blocker." Osamu raises his hands to try to copy him.

"What a stupid joke." Suna rolls his eyes.

"Pft," Osamu laughs. "You liked it." He decides to contradict him because Suna holds a lopsided smile.

"Well, a little." Suna transforms his expression into a wide smile and Osamu thinks that perhaps, at least a little bit, he has the ability to read him. "But who protects me then?"

"The pillow," He says, pointing to the pillow that had been forgotten.

"What a fool."

Pillow that is no longer forgotten because Suna takes it to hit him in the face with it.

"OUCH!" Suna laughs as Osamu throws the pillow off him. "Don't hurt the birthday boy!"

"It's past midnight."

"Rude."

"Realistic."

"Yer so, so annoying."

"And yet here I am."

"Here you are."

Here _they_ are.

Suna narrows his eyes and gives him a smile before deciding that the pillow doesn't matter to him because he lies down next to him and uses his hands as a substitute.

Osamu turns his head towards him and allows a similar smile to appear on his face because Suna is not looking at him but the smiling gesture continues to dominate his expression. It’s true that Osamu likes the word game between them because there is always a silly discussion in between, a ping pong of sentences that never ends since they always count with nonsense to argue for; but in the same way he appreciates the moments when words are not necessary and silence appears to remind him that Suna and the absence of conversation is another combination of his liking. They don't have to be talking all the time, and silence is an ally for them rather than an enemy as it is for most people.

Because as Suna just said, there he is.

In silence or with words in between, they are always side by side.

Osamu shakes his head to glimpse the gray color of the ceiling.

The way when they are at home and Suna is always the only one who stays to sleep because he never asks anyone else, when they are with his brother, Gin and Kosaku trying to complete homework that actually ends up incomplete because trying to study the five of them together is a waste of time but the same doesn’t stop them from continuing to spend time together to do so, when during practice they have to do drills in pairs and with their eyes they always look for each other because if they do it in a lazy way, no one will say something; well, yes, Kita always realized without needing to be around and now Atsumu knows them well enough to keep an eye on them and check that they do the exercises. When they are in the locker room before or after practice, or when they have to go to a different school to play a practice game. They are always side by side without asking, _can I be with you(ya), close to you(ya)?_ Because it’s not necessary and because it’s already established. And so, Osamu believes that at least something, even a bit of luck, is his.

"Are ya asleep?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"No, I told you I ate a lot of sugar." Suna answers.

Osamu turns his head and meets the same golden gaze.

"D’you want to go make pizza?"

"I'm not hungry."

"But I am."

"This is your way of telling me that pizza is your favorite food."

And again, again, they play on words.

"Pizza ain’t my favorite food, it’s a very basic food."

"Well." Suna rolls his eyes. "What do you want, mushrooms with broccoli sauce?"

"That's gross even to me."

"Are you not hungry anymore?"

He is so, so _hungry_. Suna has no idea.

"I'm always hungry." Osamu takes his back off the mattress and Suna moves with him because he knows him well enough to know what those words imply. "C’mon."

And again, they move and go, without really going anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know that Fukurodani didn't win nationals. I Do Not See

Suna stays with one knee bent against his chest, his hands clasped on them and his chin on those, taking the opportunity to observe the way in which Osamu doesn’t seem to know the meaning behind the word lost. He moves with total naturalness and he can only watch, admire the way in which the muscles of his back move with each movement he makes. He takes an instant photo with his eyes, without needing to use his phone to create and converse a new memory. It's not fair, he thinks sometimes. They play together and their lockers are side by side, but looking at Osamu's back is not something Suna can actually do on a daily basis. He smiles anyway because that means they are always side by side, playing, walking, talking.

_Talking? Being honest? For real?_

But at that very moment that’s not true and the situation has changed, because while he is sitting at the kitchen table of his house, Osamu moves in front of him with total nature, as if his house were a second home for him —which Suna thinks it is anyway—, the muscles of his body indicating that staying still is not a familiar concept because he needs to move, to look for ingredients and utensils, constantly moving his hands and shoulders to cook the dinner of that night.

"Do you know what I'm thinking?" Suna breaks the silence between them.

"You think? Yer capable of thinkin’?" Osamu looks at him over his shoulder along with a smile, that gesture turning into a small giggle as a napkin ends up against his face. "Hey." He takes the napkin that ended up on his shoulder and sets it on the kitchen counter. "No, I don't know what yer thinking. What are ya thinking?"

"If for Valentine's Day you ever decided to confess to someone, the person would be lucky," Suna responds as sometimes he just can't stop the words from leaving his lips to express anything but the truth. He is used to lying, to pretending, he is more than used to doing it, so sometimes his body compensates for all the act that he is riding through truths in the least expected moments.

"Why are ya thinking that? It’s October."

Suna tilts his head a little.

Osamu is right, it had only been a few weeks since they had celebrated his and Atsumu's birthday, but if there is one thing Suna is sure of, it’s that his brain doesn’t know how to divide by seasons, months, or days when it comes to Osamu.

He just does it, in the middle of the day when he is in class, the same resulting in the teacher getting his attention, sometimes when he is in the middle of practice and has to dodge a ball so that his face doesn’t have any bruises, or sometimes just because, because he can and nothing prevents him from thinking about Osamu, as at that time.

"Because you know how to cook, then getting something from you would be nice."

Suna has already forgotten all the times that a girl has approached him to express that he is the possessor of her feelings along with a box of chocolates or cookies, and he doesn’t feel bad about rejecting them, since first, he doesn’t like sweet cookies and he's not a fan of chocolate either unless it's two in the morning and sleeping isn't important anymore so he decides to size up his dark circles after ingesting sugar no matter what time it is; and second, it's just enough for both parts. He continues with his show and the girls are free to look for someone else to rest their attention and interest on. Suna thinks he's doing them a favor, because no matter how many girls confess to him, he's just waiting for a kind of confession that still hasn't appeared.

Hopeless thoughts and scenes created with the help of his imagination, in that, he considers himself an expert.

"You know I'm still not quite right with pastry."

"I know, but why not break the rules? Give, I don't know, onigiri."

Osamu turns to give him an incredulous look and Suna continues with his neutral expression. "I'm not going to waste my time on onigiri not knowing if my confession will be received."

"Who would reject you?"

Osamu sometimes mentions that Suna is stupid, and there are times like those, when Suna is right.

Because he doesn’t think and simply speaks, he allows his brain to express his thoughts in the form of words that Suna continues to think about even though they have already been said and thus exposed. It’s true that now that he is the captain, the people behind Atsumu have increased, but Osamu also has his own group of fans, Suna especially being able to see them because they both share class; because if you like one of the twins, then you like the other too. Right? That is the general opinion.

Not Suna's.

Osamu looks at him, then at the ground, and at him again. "You never know." He says, continuing to take care of dinner that night after turning the knobs on the oven in front of him to lower the fire. "Did I hear wrong or didja say that receiving something from me would be nice?"

Sometimes Suna doesn't think, sometimes he does. And regardless of the decision, he speaks anyway because he is also aware of the words he says. "What if I said it?" He asks, it’s not like he's signing a letter declaring his love right then and there.

Heart stickers and pink letters. He doesn't like that.

Perhaps he has already gotten used to considering love and pain as synonyms.

"I always cook for ya. So you know that getting something from me is nice."

He takes advantage of the fact that Osamu is turning his back on him so that a smile plays on his face.

"You're right."

"Why are ya thinking about that anyway? Yer thinking of confessing to someone?"

The smile on Suna's face is replaced with a sigh.

He thinks of the irony of the situation and the words, of the person who mentions that question. If there is something that is clear to him, it’s that he doesn’t intend to confess his feelings, his giddy thoughts and his regrettable heartbeat as a consequence of the same. He doesn't have the guts to be like the girls who approach him to tell the truth, because he knows how to reject but fears being rejected. He doesn’t want sweet cookies or chocolates, he wants something reciprocated and true with which for the moment he can only keep thinking when it’s late and he can’t sleep, and the only thing he can think of to do is allow his thoughts to continue haunting him because love is not as simple as offering chocolates and a few words.

"To whom? My eternal love for my phone?"

"Mhm, you and yer phone. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised." On that occasion Osamu laughs and moves ahead of time because he knows that a second napkin is being thrown in his direction, so he bends down to pick it up and leave it with the other that Suna had previously thrown.

"Stop talking nonsense."

"You started the topic." Osamu points at him with a wooden fork.

"I was complimenting you."

"Seriously? Is that yer way of complimentin’ me?"

Osamu turns around as Suna finally straightens up. "I was just thinking that it's amazing that you know more about my kitchen than I do," He says, ( _you are amazing_ , he thinks), since he's not really lying and he's amazed at the way Osamu seems to know every inch of his kitchen, where the things he needs are, what each drawer keeps, where are the pans and the largest pots. It’s a natural territory for him.

"I don't know what surprises ya. Yer lazy. If it were up to ya, you'd eat oreos for dinner."

"I won't deny it."

Osamu turns around to give him a serious look that indicates that he is not happy with his words, and Suna can only hold a big smile of pride on his face that he knows that annoys Osamu because he narrows his eyes for a few seconds. "But luckily for ya," He points at him with the fork and then at himself. "I'm a kind person with a kind soul who offers to come to yer house to make food cuz yer parents left."

"I have frozen food."

"Didja really compare my food with frozen food?"

"Guilty." Suna expresses not feeling guilty at all. "What are you doing?" He asks, but as soon as he tilts his head, Osamu moves to the same side so he can't see.

"I won't tell ya." Suna is supposed to remain serious at those words, but the reality is that a funny smile appears on his face when, at the same time as Osamu turns around to pay attention to the food he is preparing, he looks at his cat appearing to jump on the kitchen counter. "SUNA TAKE THAT THING AWAY."

Suna gets up and only decides to listen to him because it’s dangerous for his cat to be near the oven. Osamu looks at his pet with a frown because he doesn’t trust him, and Suna stays by his side to take his cat between his arms and give him a smile when he seems to agree with that movement.

"It’s not a thing," He says, glancing at Osamu, whose sight is now between him and his pet. "It's my cat."

"He doesn't like me."

The cat shows its small fangs although it seems to be totally comfortable in Suna's arms, now much more since his paws are resting against his chest as well as part of his body. Osamu doesn’t hesitate to copy it after frowning even more and sticking out his tongue and Suna chuckles before giving his cat a kiss, making him stop staying focused on Osamu to caress his cheek with his face, a purr showing that he is the owner. As long as he can remember, Osamu and his cat have never gotten along, they always stare at each other hoping that one of them will move or attack first even if one is a human and the other an animal, but luckily for both of them, Suna is always present to interpose himself.

"He likes me." Suna says, separating the cat from his chest to hold it an inch from his face.

"Meow."

"Take it away."

"Fine, fine." Suna strokes his pet's head before crouching down to let him go the way he came from, and crosses his arms once he remains next to Osamu, who continues to look at him suspiciously. "I can't believe you don't like my cat."

"He doesn't like me." Osamu expresses with his chin held high and his pride hurt as if it were a broken friendship.

Suna looks at him. _But I do_. "He doesn't like the food you make," He says, finally lowering his gaze to the saucepan that Osamu has in front of him. "What is that, vegetables?" He asks when he sees green leaves frying while the noise of fire and oil is the only thing that accompanies them. "Why?"

Osamu looks at him seriously. "Don't complain without trying."

"But it's vegetables."

"Shush." Osamu holds the fork between them. "We have chuupets for later."

"Of course, that’s the rule."

"You know, you tell me for not having a favorite food but yers ain’t even food," Osamu tells his before moving the green leaves with the fork and then opening one of the pots where Suna manages to see what seem to be pieces of chicken.

"First you insult my cat, then my food. Anything else?" Suna asks him.

Osamu pretends to think and then shrugs. "Not for now."

"At least I’m able to choose my favorite food."

"That ain’t food."

"Then let me have your chuupet."

"Of course not."

Suna rolls his eyes and opts to move to rest his hip against the kitchen counter.

People around them believe that the conversations between them are only based on a few words since they choose to remain silent when others speak or because they are not the most talkative people on the team. They don’t wear a smile on all hours of the day, and they won't fake a surprised face if they don't want to interact, but Suna knows better, and he knows that between Osamu and him there is this play on words that sometimes hides more than it shows.

It's like a personal match where he really wants to win or just a tie. Sometimes Osamu wins, sometimes he wins, sometimes both if that's considered possible.

"Do you need me to do something?" Suna asks, still with his arms crossed.

"Talk to me while I cook."

"I always do that."

Osamu gives him a smile without taking his eyes off the food. "Then keep doin’ it."

Suna watches him and then slides his eyes to his gray locks, the black base of them already being visible. He uncrosses his arms to bring his fingers to his hair. "You still have to dye it." He says, really thanking Osamu for having decided to change his hair color because that is equal to an opportunity to always be able to reproach him for the same, of stroking his locks with his fingers, pretending that there is nothing in that action more than a hint of annoyance that Suna doesn't really care.

Osamu never seems upset with the contact which is why he keeps doing it. "’kay, you better not talk." He says, but his words prove otherwise and Suna smiles when Osamu shakes his head on purpose so that he stops reminding him that he has to re-dye it if he doesn't want his locks to turn black again. "Set the table for us." He indicates, and Suna moves to find two bowls near the oven. "Have ya never thought about dyeing yer hair?"

Suna arches an eyebrow and stands with the two bowls and utensils in his hands. "Are you saying you don't like my hair?"

"You have an obsession with changing my words." Osamu glances at him before returning to focus on the food. "Answer my question."

"I've never thought about it." Suna moves so that he can rest the bowls on the table next to each other, wondering if it's better to leave the bowls facing each other or side by side.

If they sit side by side, their shoulders will likely brush, and in case his control fails and for some reason his cheeks turn pink, Osamu won't be able to spot the reddish hue on his face unless he turns his head. If they face each other, he will have a better view of Osamu's smile. He looks at the table and decides to place the bowls side by side. Stupid love, it makes him think about the advantages and disadvantages of sitting at the table in a certain way.

"Maybe some color, red." He adds, realizing that he has been silent for a long time. He looks for the glasses and Osamu glances at him when he opens the refrigerator to get a bottle of water. "Highlights perhaps."

"Red?"

"It would look cool," He says. "Or black. But all my hair."

Osamu looks at him with a smile on his face when Suna comes back to his side. "You'd match our uniform."

"Shut up." Suna rolls his eyes. "Have you seen your color? You have no right to say something."

"Listen. You saw my brother's color. I have made a better decision."

"Sure, but it's still a weird color."

"When you can only distinguish us by our hair color cuz with all the time ya spend on yer phone, you will have to wear glasses and when you forget them, only my hair will tell ya if I am my brother or me, you will thank me for choosing this color of hair." Osamu expresses pointing to his head with the fork.

Suna lets out a sigh and narrows his gaze. "Don't talk like my parents."

"You know I'm right."

"Did you just assume that I'll forget my glasses in case I have to wear them?"

"You always forget everything."

"Not my phone."

"You just agreed with me."

"I'm a teenager, I'm supposed to be on my phone all the time." Suna assures him.

"Excuses, excuses." Osamu says, shaking his head.

"Remind me not to invite you next time."

"Would you rather have oreos for dinner than this?"

Osamu points to the vegetables he seems to have added a sauce to as well as some of the chicken pieces and Suna wrinkles his nose. It doesn’t seem like something he would choose if he went to a restaurant or something he would eat of my own free will, even if it’s cooked by Osamu.

"It has green."

"Are ya five years old?"

"Maybe." Suna lifts his chin proudly. "And I like oreos." He adds, the kitchen shelves being evidence of the same.

"But it ain’t healthy."

"Nevermind."

"That's why yer anemic."

"You really are annoying today."

He’s not really annoyed, he doesn’t smile but the happiness expands within him.

"I only care about ya. I want ya to eat well."

Happiness accompanies the circulation of his blood because Osamu cares about him and his food, because although he never asks directly for it, he always takes any available opportunity to cook something new for him and in that way show him that there is more to life than a hamburger with fries and pizza. He doesn't care that it's probably because they're both teammates and if one feels bad then the rest of the team too. Hearing Osamu say that he cares about him is enough to make one corner of his mouth go up.

"I know. You cook for me."

"See, I'm yer personal chef. You can't get rid of me."

Suna laughs because the irony of the words hurts.

It’s true. It’s nothing but the plain truth. He can’t get rid of him when it’s seven o'clock in the morning and with the company of his headphones he is walking towards the school, grateful that his desk is glued to the window for which therefore he is forced to be concealed with the number of times he turns his head to take a look at Osamu because a simple movement can give him away. Nor can he get rid of him when it’s late and the delivery and sending of texts for that day ends, leaving a feeling of oppression but also of satisfaction in his chest. Another day, he has survived another day with his heart that can’t remain calm when he is around Osamu no matter how used to being by his side he is. It’s a losing battle because it’s another day that he’s not sincere, but it’s also a small victory because it’s another day that he survives knowing that his feelings not being reciprocated is something that hurts, that doesn’t go away or disappear. Yet the friendship stays.

"I don't want to get rid of you."

He can't get rid of Osamu, and he doesn't want to get rid of Osamu.

This time Osamu is not looking at him out of the corner of his eye, but intently. Suna doesn’t look away, and arches an eyebrow when Osamu approaches him as if he wants to tell him a secret. "Be careful," Osamu whispers although they are both fully aware that only the two of them are present. "Or yer cat could listen to ya and get jealous."

Suna looks at him indignantly, making Osamu giggle before breaking apart again.

"You're a fool," Suna expresses as he turns to bend down and rest one of his elbows on the kitchen counter as well as his chin on the palm of his hand.

"A fool that cooks for ya."

"Fortunately. Oh, I'll post a story on Instagram."

"Is it necessary?" Osamu complains at the same time that Suna takes his phone out of his pants pockets.

"It bothers you?"

Osamu shakes his head, surrendered. "I don't understand this generation."

"Osamu we're the same age." Suna looks at him.

"Old man's soul." Osamu puts a hand on his chest.

"And still, you don't like cats."

"I already told ya. Yer cat is the bad guy here."

Suna opens the app but looks outraged at Osamu. "My cat is not bad."

"Then you wonder why we're always at my house."

"Mhm. Because you like your kitchen better."

"True."

Osamu takes out his fork so that Suna can take a picture of the food he is cooking. He doesn’t understand Suna's obsession with basically telling everyone he knows what he is doing all the time, yet a small smile appears on his face when he sees that Suna tags him in the photo before posting it. He hardly uses Instagram, and the few photos he has uploaded are because Suna has forced him to, but there’s still a part of that action that makes him smile.

They leave the door open for silence and it doesn't bother them. Suna is used to Osamu asking him to talk to him while cooking and sometimes he doesn't even have to do it because the conversation flows freely between them, but Suna knows that there is no need for words to be involved for Osamu to enjoy what he does, without the need for him to be by his side talking to him about any existing topic. It’s enough to take a look at him and see the slight smile that hangs on his face to know that he feels comfortable, that for him the kitchen is a good place where he can relax no matter how complicated a recipe may be. Because Suna accepts that Osamu cooks for him not only because of the food, but also because each time it represents an opportunity to see a real smile on his face.

Suna finally stops looking at him to play with the sleeves of the black sweater that he wears, his phone already stored in his pocket because it’s no lie that he doesn’t use his phone when he is with him.

"You look happy you know," He opts to say.

"Mhm?"

"When you cook." Suna looks at him before looking back at his hands. "You look happy. That's why I invite you." He adds, and chooses to look at him after resting his elbow on the counter and his chin on his hand.

Sometimes telling the truth is not that difficult.

"I thought you invited me cuz you liked my company. I see how it is." Osamu laughs as Suna stretches his arm out to give him a slight push on his arm along with a smile on his face. Osamu smiles at him and then returns his eyes to the food, his smile still intact. "I always liked it."

"I know. Since I met you, you like to cook."

"And that's why ya weren't surprised when I told ‘tsumu."

Osamu looks at him and his smile is no longer so noticeable. Suna straightens up to cross his arms and look at him once Osamu avoids his gaze.

Standing up against a familiar, equal face.

Grabbing by the collar of the shirt.

Declaring that the future will be a competition over having the happier life.

"I’m a middle blocker, remember? I’m supposed to be able to read people, I guess." Suna doesn’t believe his own words. He believes that it has always been obvious that Osamu and Atsumu are not the same even though they both know what it means to be passionate, but he is completely sure that he can’t read Osamu. Players, strategies, tactics, positions. He can read teams and their thoughts, but he can’t read Osamu. "It did surprise me that you decided to tell him there."

"I know, it's just that—" Osamu swallows, the memories of that moment probably popping into his head because Suna notices the way his jaw is accompanied by a slight tension as well as the way he frowns. "The situation got the better of me."

"I know. It was evident."

As always Kita had been the one to separate them so that the situation would end, but anyway the fight and the crosswords had already happened and later Suna had found himself for Osamu as well as Kita for Atsumu.

Their gazes meet for a second when Osamu looks at him.

"Thanks for being there for me." He mentions. "With me."

"It's okay."

"Thank you." Osamu says anyway. "I still, I, I mean, I still like volleyball."

"I know."

"Just not as much as ya and ‘tsumu."

Suna tilts his head and arches an eyebrow. "You don't have to justify yourself to me. I'm not like your brother."

"You two really like volleyball." Osamu expresses, saying those words as if that simple fact was enough for Suna and Atsumu to be best friends.

"Yes, but in a different way."

"I guess."

Suna glances at Osamu, wondering how long the moment keeps eating at him to react that way to the mention of the subject. Not in an aggressive or angry way, but simply commenting on the matter in a low tone of voice and coupled with a neutral expression that Suna is sure is decorated, still with a trace of sadness. It’s one of the moments when he does wish for words between the two of them, but fortunately for him there is no need to bring up a topic of conversation because the noise of the boiling food interrupts the non-existent conversation.

"Oh, that's it." Osamu says turning off the oven.

"Yes!" Suna forgets everything as soon as he raises his arms in the air.

Osamu smiles, again. And Suna falls, again.

"Wasn't it that you didn't want vegetables?" Osamu asks with an amused smile.

"Shut up."

"Don't treat the chef like that or there won't be food."

Suna places his hands on his chest and Osamu rolls his eyes because he already knows him well enough to know that, like him, although it seems that Suna doesn’t speak and prefers silence over conversations, he is just as ironic and sarcastic as him. "Oh, thank you super chef Miya Osamu for such a difficult task."

"Stop."

"For feeding me on this Friday night, I don't know what would have been without you. My stomach thanks you."

"Stop it."

Suna smiles at the same time that he bites his lower lip. "It's my house. I do what I want."

"Then do what you want. I will eat cuz I’m hungry."

Suna wrinkles his nose in disgust and on that occasion it’s Osamu who smiles before Suna opts to sit in his place at the table. He follows the movements of Osamu's hands as he serves the food in both bowls and arches an eyebrow when green leaves with chicken appear in front of him accompanied by a sauce that looks like caramel, plus white noodles.

"It's a tasty and healthy salad for yer stomach," Osamu tells him before sitting down next to him.

Suna continues to stare at the contents in his bowl, but all attention is withdrawn from the food when he feels his phone vibrate twice, and in a matter of seconds his field of vision is occupied by his phone.

"D’you have to use yer phone right now?" Osamu asks him, resignation in his words.

"It's from Keiji. One notification for you. Two for Keiji. Three for Hirugami." He replies without even paying attention to what he says.

"Keiji." Osamu repeats.

Suna looks at him, still with his phone in hand. "Fukurodani's captain and setter. I went to middle school with him. You know that."

Unlike the rest of Inarizaki's team, he doesn't have an accent because he had moved there just in time to start high school in a new place. He comes from Tokyo and for the same reason Akaashi is more than one face among many others at nationals, since both had gone to middle school together and so far they have never broken contact regardless of whether they live far away.

"Right." Osamu says, but then raises an eyebrow. "Wait. Ya have a special notification for me?"

As soon as he hears his words, Suna pats himself on the back for having placed the bowls side by side, as he hopes that the heat he feels on his face is not so noticeable when he realizes that he has revealed a detail that perhaps he didn’t want to reveal. Anyway, if his blush is evident, Osamu can barely tell.

"Well, duh," He says quickly. "We talk all the time."

Suna feels like he can breathe when Osamu just hums, realizing that they certainly find themselves texting continuously when they are not side by side, but he again forms a line with his lips when he feels Osamu's eyes on him again.

"Hirugami?" He asks, and Suna relaxes his shoulders, relieved.

"Yeah, Kamomedai's middle blocker, remember?"

"I know, you talk with him?"

"Yeah, something like an alliance of middle blockers," Suna comments along with a small smile. "You could do the same with the wing spikers."

Osamu looks at him like he said the food is disgusting and arches an eyebrow. "With Hirugami's teammate? Not even joking. Too much energy for my liking." He says totally oblivious to the idea, making Suna laugh.

Suna glances at Osamu to then drop his attention on the text Akaashi has sent him, the words getting him to raise both eyebrows.

"Were you planning to do something for Halloween?" He asks Osamu.

Osamu finally stops holding his sight in any fixed point in particular and looks at him. "I don’t think so, why?"

"What about a party?"

"What?"

"In Tokyo, he invited us." He tells him, showing him the screen of his phone.

It's only supposed to be a quick glance, but as soon as Osamu moves his hand to take Suna's phone and he doesn't remove his, Suna feels like he just lost his appetite yet his stomach is more open than ever because what he feels are not butterflies, but sudden nerves as just the brush between his fingers is enough so that Suna can’t take his gaze from him while Osamu's eyes move after reading the text sent.

His hand remains still only because Osamu is holding his in some way, and as soon as Osamu finishes reading the text and finally drops it, Suna immediately leaves his gaze on his phone in case the heat he feels on his face has worn off in the form of a blush on his cheeks. Whether it is so or not, Osamu doesn't comment on it, and instead asks, "D’you want to go?"

Suna is grateful that the text about the party was the reason for the short circuit he feels that his brain has counted on with because it forces himself to think about that matter instead of the fact that it’s increasingly difficult to control the way he feels every time he is with Osamu, as well as when he is not with him. Nervous, restless, with his skin burning even though they are in the middle of October and winter is weeks away from appearing at the door of his house in the form of snow.

"I want to see Keiji, so yes," He answers with his eyes glued to the screen of his phone, observing the black letters of the text but not rereading it because he knows that at that moment his brain is not even able to complete the simplest of tasks. "But it's in Tokyo, I understand if you don't want to come. He offers us to stay over. Atsumu, Gin and Kosaku too."

Osamu tilts his head, still looking at him.

"Nice house I guess."

"He goes to Fukurodani, don't be surprised."

His thumbs stay on the screen of his phone, an object that he has already become used to using as a way of support to prevent his hands from shaking and having something to hold on, because if he can’t take Osamu's hands with his own, then he should take advantage of the fact that everyone thinks that an electronic device is his best friend so that the trembling that accompanies his hands is not so obvious. He is ready to type a reply without even needing to look at the keyboard because as he is one of the best blockers of his age, he can also type messages without having to see the letters.

"Well, if ya want, let's go."

"Great." Suna's fingers are already moving to answer Akaashi. "I don't know what I should wear."

"A costume?"

"Duh, it's a Halloween party."

"Disguise yerself as a person who eats. Eat."

"Ugh." Suna finally watches him after throwing his head back in resignation and then giving him a serious look to which Osamu only reacts by looking at him, lowering his gaze to his bowl, and looking at him again.

Suna doesn't need more than that to understand that Osamu is being serious, so he locks his phone and places it next to his bowl. He picks up his chopsticks and inspects the food with his eyes. He manages to catch chicken and some noodles between the chopsticks to finally savor that night's dinner, and once again he confirms that no matter how much he likes oreos, how big is the smile that appears on his face when he finds out that there are still cereals left inside one of the boxes when he is looking for something to eat at three in the morning because he can’t sleep, and how much he distrusts Osamu because he has a palate and a wide variety of tastes for the kitchen, the food that he prepares for him is and will always be the best.

"It's good," He says, already dipping his chopsticks into his food for the second time.

"I know." Osamu says without an ounce of egotism.

Suna arches an eyebrow and holds another bite inches from the bowl before turning his head toward him. "Thank you, Suna, your words make me so happy, thank you for expressing such a comment about the food that I have cooked for you tonight. I’m so glad that you like my food, it means a lot to me." He expresses, trying his best imitation of him.

He sees the way Osamu frowns before looking at him and laughs for the same reason.

"I won’t say that, I don’t talk like that."

"Ah, right. My bad. Let me try again. Thank _ya_ Suna, _yer_ words make me so happy."

Osamu stares at him and Suna chuckles.

Many people think that Osamu and Atsumu are totally different regardless of whether they are twins and have the same face, and although Suna agrees because while one doesn’t doubt to hold a marvelous smile, the other doesn’t do it as often as the first, and because while one considers attention to be his best friend, the other is oblivious to the gaze and reserves his egotism for the necessary moments; he also believes that there’s a mistake in that thought, since just as Atsumu has his ways of showing when he is angry, sad or happy, Suna believes that Osamu only needs a little more time to be able to decipher what he is thinking just by being able to read his facial features.

At that moment he squints his gaze, one of his eyebrows is slightly higher than the other and his lips form a line but it doesn’t represent tension, so Suna knows that the next words Osamu will express will surely be to irritate him.

"Tokyo boy."

And he is right.

"Rude." He says.

"Thank _you_." Osamu expresses and Suna frowns. "D’you miss there?"

"Mhm?"

Osamu's face softens. Suna keeps looking at him.

"Tokyo."

He finally decides to continue eating to have time to think about his answer. Three years have passed since his life has completely changed and he still needs a few extra seconds to be able to provide an adequate answer. "Sometimes, I guess," He chooses to say, since just as there are times when he doesn’t miss the big city at all and thinks about everything new that surrounds him, about everything that he continues to discover, there are other times when he thinks of getting out of bed to take the first train and return to the familiar streets. "But it’s not like I had much of a choice. My father was offered a job here."

"I know."

"Do you know everything about me?"

"I dunno. Do I?"

Suna remains with his mouth open because he had thought about answering yes. That he knows everything because Osamu is aware that he prefers cats overs dogs, that he likes volleyball even if he doesn’t express it out loud like the rest because Osamu knows there’s a team that’s interested in him and Komori, that he doesn’t like waking up early, and that he loves his phone enough not to smash it against the wall every morning when the alarm sounds.

But Osamu doesn't know everything about him.

He doesn’t know the way in which being about to play a match or a final set that will define the result of it doesn’t compare in anything with the nerves that it produces to be alone with him, or when he is with his heartbeat in a normal rhythm and Osamu decides to get closer to him because they always follow each other. He doesn’t know everything he wants to say to him and everything he avoids expressing out loud for the sake of the friendship between them, because he is confused and sometimes feels that he sees mixed signals while other times he feels that everything is said and that there is no need to change what's between the two.

Suna is happy, he can't deny it. But he is not satisfied.

Spending his time with Osamu is no longer enough because leaving his eyes on his instead of on his lips becomes an increasingly difficult task as the days go by. It’s not something easy and he knows it, so despite the enormous trust between them, enough so that Suna can rest his hand on his shoulder or his head on his lap without appearing to have ulterior motives, in that moment he says, "No, you don't."

"Look who the mystery boy is now."

"Shut up and eat."

"I'm doing that. You eat." Osamu points to his bowl.

Suna rolls his eyes but then turns on them and eats because he knows that otherwise Osamu will stare at him until he does. It's not that it bothers him that he stares at him, he even likes him to do so because that means Osamu's attention is on him, only on him and no one but him. But it also means being watched, feeling like he’s under a magnifying glass under the worst possible investigator: Miya Osamu.

"I miss it sometimes," Suna chooses to reply after a few bites. He misses Akaashi and Akaashi’s family, all the afternoons they have spent together either studying or passing a ball between the two of them when it was rainy outside and they had to do it slowly because they didn't want their parents to scold them. "But I'm glad I moved." He doesn't hesitate to add.

At fifteen he leaves the big city to move to a place with fewer people, with fewer attractions, with the absence of bright lights at night and posters that force you to take your eyes towards them. Suddenly everything is unknown and he finds himself pronouncing his name in front of a class full of unfamiliar faces as well as later before a volleyball team he wants to join because that sport, he believes, is the only thing that can save him from feeling totally alien with his new life. It's strange, it’s weird, texting Akaashi instead of being face-to-face, thinking of all the places that he wishes he had visited more times. It's missing Tokyo, blocking balls, hearing that he's a good player for his age, and not caring so much about those comments because he just wants to sleep, stop wondering, and find places that sell his favorite brand of chuupets.

At sixteen he doesn’t miss Tokyo that much because he is busy spending half his time separating two equal faces with different hair color since his new captain has a face sculpted by angels but a personality forged by devils, and the other half time blocking balls, receiving, spiking the ball that comes and goes from both sides of the net. It’s being tired but not giving up, finding much more than chuupets. It’s still talking with Akaashi, some nights texts are video calls because they both grow up but the distance doesn’t manage to separate them since also sometimes they have the opportunity to hug each other because they really don’t want a move to break the friendship that they have forged. It’s always finding himself in the middle because the twins spend their time with him, it’s watching Gin and Kosaku go away because they don’t want to be involved, and it’s glancing at his side for too long, his heart feeling a slight pounding with that action when his eyes find a small spout and a gray gaze. It's getting only one chance to show his blocking skills and the strength his core counts with, with the lights of the big stadium over him and the cheering squad booing their opponents. It’s feeling unsatisfied. It’s seeing Akaashi win nationals.

At seventeen, he is the vice-captain of the team he has joined two years ago, with Atsumu as captain, directing people who like them no longer believe a hundred percent in the banner of their school, because during the last tournament they only had the opportunity to play nothing more and nothing less than only one game when they promised to give their all. Everything had been suddenly snatched away, leaving them with no more chances for the third years to have more games to play. It’s the intention to fulfill a new promise to get the first place because they want to see the black color of their uniform shine until it seems the brightest white, to declare that they are coming back and that this time they don’t plan to fall down until the reach the finals. It’s reading players and their hands, their arms, their eyes, being in the middle of the twins, but with an even more confused yet locked heart because he’s aware of what is happening to him and he accepts it. It’s suffering because love is difficult and it hurts. It hurts so much. It’s telling Akaashi about it. It’s not telling Osamu about it.

It's feeling, it's dealing with emotions. It’s embracing the concepts of love and pain, friendship and suffering.

But despite the pain, Suna is glad he moved out.

"Yer anemia levels would be crazy without me," Osamu tells him.

"Shut up," Suna reproaches him. "I still have anemia."

"What did the doctor tell ya?"

Suna rolls his eyes. "I’m eating better and it shows."

"Exactly, so sh."

"Maybe you are my personal chef after all."

"And you don't pay me!" Osamu exclaims turning to him, feigning offense in his expression. "How dare ya."

"Do you accept anything other than money?"

Once again silence invades them suddenly, having a free invitation because that is how they are used to treating the absence of words, like an old friend who is free to come and go, to appear and disappear in the least expected moments. Osamu looks at him and Suna holds his gaze, because just as Osamu doesn't know everything about him, Suna is sure that he doesn't know everything about Osamu. He looks for any change, any trace of movement in his expression that allows him to read his thoughts behind the neutral face he is currently holding, but he only keeps looking at him when Osamu opens his mouth.

"Sure," He says, and taps his own right cheek.

Suna really wishes he could read him. Decipher the thoughts behind that action.

But the reality is that just as he knows how to block players on the opposite side of the net, he also knows when to take his chances and decide to take a short break even in the middle of the game —though several times the same thing has led to receive a couple of words from Kita—, and if he is able to offer himself that luxury in the middle of a match, where the ball doesn’t stop as well as the players, and the tension continues, then he can also do it at that moment; so he finishes closing the distance between them and kisses his cheek, his lips meeting warm, smooth skin.

He stays apart, and wonders if the food actually has some magical kind of sauce with it because he only manages to swallow when he sees Osamu tapping his other cheek. "Another one."

"You are a fool."

Suna expresses those words because he truly believes it.

But that doesn’t stop him from approaching him a second time once Osamu moves his face so that he can feel the softness of his skin after leaving a kiss on his other cheek. He stays apart but not as much as before, and they both stare at each other with little distance between them and with silence again accompanying them as Suna wonders why he fell in love with someone as foolish as Osamu. Osamu confuses him and makes him believe that hope is a nice concept until afterwards they remain that way and makes him want to crumple up hope and then throw it in the nearest garbage can. Because they are close, but they are far.

Osamu licks his lips and Suna forces himself —really forces himself— to keep looking him in the eye.

"If I make ya a midnight sandwich, what will I get?"

Suna feels that sometimes he wants to kiss him and that other times he wants to punch him, and at that moment, he can't decide which of the two options sounds more tempting. But if it’s a game between them and all the time it’s a constant back and forth of eliminating limits and then going back and creating the same barriers again, then Suna is willing to be a player with the same potential. He gives himself the opportunity to drop his gaze to Osamu’s lips, the same ones counting with a soft pink hue that only makes him want to carry out the answer that has been formulated in his head since he heard his question. A kiss on his lips.

But he restrains himself and looks up again once he considers that it has been enough time for Osamu to know that lowering his eyes to his mouth has not been a simple action free of all intention and purity. "A kiss on the forehead," He replies in his best, neutral voice.

Osamu narrows his eyes and then runs his face.

"Who are ya, my parents?"

"Shut up." Osamu looks at him again. "I can always eat oreos." Suna assures him with a lopsided smile.

"Oh, of course not."

"I still don't know what you have against oreos."

"Nothin’, but ya could have a fruit or a sandwich."

"Or an oreo sandwich."

Finally the short distance between them ends when Osamu expands it after leaning back only so that he can see in detail the expression of rejection that his words generated. "Ew," He adds anyway to make it clear that bread and cookies can’t appear together in his head.

"Doesn't my personal chef approve my idea?"

"Absolutely not."

Suna laughs, and finally he’s the one that breaks up with whatever that moment between them has been because the table vibrates when his phone does so and he doesn’t hesitate to turn part of his body to take it and see Akaashi's text.

"Ah, we won't need costumes."

"Mhm?"

This time he doesn't choose to show Osamu his phone screen because he still doesn't understand how his hands aren't shaking or how his face isn't burning because he has kissed Osamu on both cheeks without breaking down in the process, and the reality is that he knows that if their fingers brush as they had previously done, he would no longer be able to control whatever was about to explode inside his body. So he continues with his eyes on the screen of his phone when he decides to clarify the newly arrived text that has given an unexpected turn to the idea of what he had already thought of wearing to the night that awaited them in a couple of weeks. "It will be a neon party."


	3. Chapter 3

Osamu is not jealous of Atsumu when he is chosen to go to the All-Youth Japan training camp while he is not. Regardless of whether their last name is the same, regardless of whether they are twins, regardless of whether they are both volleyball players. Atsumu is frustrated because he is not jealous but fortunately for both of them, it only takes a while for Atsumu to come back to being the same person as always, the one who annoys him because he will play with people of his age just as amazing and skilled as him while Osamu will stay with the rest of the team. He's not jealous of him when commentators end up talking more about Atsumu than him during tournaments because he has to be a fool not to realize that his brother has that extra spark that he doesn't have for volleyball. His stomach doesn’t hurt nor does his brow furrow when in his class some of the girls ask him Atsumu’s favorite things because his brother being the captain of the team implies an entourage behind him that seeks to win his heart when in fact, Atsumu’s heart already belongs to Kita.

He feels that he doesn’t know what it takes to feel jealous because he is used to Atsumu's demands since he was little, since his mother serves him the food first and gives him the largest portion although Osamu then always ends up eating what he leaves, and since he has been looking for his grandparents to give him the most generous hug and kiss on the cheek. He doesn't care that his brother walks in front of the group when everyone is walking on the street after a practice, that he is the one to wear the number one jersey in their last year of high school, and that the players on the opposite side net only look at his brother when others are smarter and know that they are an unstoppable duo.

He thinks he doesn’t know what jealousy is, until he realizes he does.

Because at that moment, while he is sitting on the edge of Akaashi's bed watching the way Akaashi and Suna are totally close to each other, talking furtively between them, smiling at each other, showing that they have known each other for a long time and that the trust between them plays an important role; their faces certainly a few centimeters apart since Akaashi keeps one of his hands on his cheek while with his other hand he holds a brush that at that moment is tracing the shape of a small heart on Suna's other cheek; Osamu thinks that actually, yes, he does know what jealousy is.

It’s being totally serious, feeling cornered because a threat that he hadn’t considered before is there, right there, in front of him to let him know that he does know what jealousy is. It’s feeling annoyed, irritated. It’s not moving from where he is, the fingers of the palms of his hands that are resting on the mattress, twisting because the image in front of him is not to his liking.

Image that is interrupted because a face similar to his appears in front of him.

"If ya keep frownin’ like that, I'll be the prettiest twin."

Osamu runs his face when his brother sits next to him and he dares to bring his index finger to the space between his eyebrows, but he stares at him anyway because at that moment he even prefers to watch his reflection with blond hair instead of keep on watching the scene that he’s conscious continues to develop in the same space where he is.

"Shut up."

"Just sayin’."

Osamu sees him and finally his expression changes when one of the corners of his upper lip is raised in disgust and his gaze is narrowed for a few inches when he realizes that Atsumu has decorated his face with neon yellow paint in a C shape around his right eye and two green dots below his left eye. He is also wearing way too many round necklaces of all possible colors around his neck that contrast with his white v-neck t-shirt that is clearly a smaller size than it should be, and pants of the same color. If he looks like an ice cream man with an obsession with neon colors, Osamu doesn't say so. But he does choose to express, “You just confessed that I'm the prettiest twin."

"Of course not."

"You just said it."

"Yer imagining things."

"I hope I'm imagining ya."

"Rude."

"What are you two talking about?"

Osamu remains with his mouth open, ready to once again express the opposite opinion of his brother, but both he and Atsumu stop looking at each other when a third voice that they know very well and that both are used to hearing interrupt them when they argue or fight, gets added to the conversation; and Osamu appreciates his speed in arguing against his brother because otherwise he believes that his mouth would have opened anyway as soon as both his gaze and his attention stopped resting on his brother to be taken by Suna.

His eyes had rested on him when he'd come out of the bathroom in his party-ready outfit, which consists of a set of black high-waist jeans that exposes all the hours of practice and the effort he has to put in as middle blocker, all that exercise showing the right way that the piece of clothing fit his legs; and a long-sleeved neon green turtleneck t-shirt that not only highlights the width of his shoulders but also the badness of his posture that he doesn’t seem to get rid of no matter how many stretching exercises he does before and after each practice, along with short black boots.

But as Suna had barely left, Akaashi had taken him by the hands to be able to talk to him, so this time turns out to be the first time that he can certainly admire him up close, better.

"Don’t argue."

Osamu blinks when he hears Suna's voice again, and for the first time he’s grateful that his brother is known for speaking much more than he does.

"I was tellin’ ‘samu that if he continues with the same expression, I will be the prettiest."

Suna feels his gaze between them and then leaves his eyes on Atsumu.

"So you accept that Osamu is prettier."

"Of course not!" Atsumu exclaims as he gets up. "Ugh! You two!" Is the only thing he adds, pretending to be offended because he crosses his arms and walks away from them with his chin raised.

They both follow him with their eyes but stop looking at Atsumu as Osamu again feels the mattress next to him sink when Suna sits where his brother had previously been, unlike whom, he only has a small neon orange heart on his left cheek near his eye, and whatever relaxation Atsumu had somehow managed to give him fades when he remembers that Akaashi is the author of said heart.

"What about ya?" Osamu asks him. "D’you agree that I’m the prettiest?"

"Well, Atsumu is right. You shouldn't frown so much." Suna responds by touching the space between his eyebrows with his index finger, Osamu reacting by closing his eyes the moment his finger makes contact with his skin instead of running his face as he had previously done.

"Then ya accept that I'm the prettiest."

"Why are you frowning so much?" Suna asks him.

Osamu wants to answer that he frowns because he is used to the two of them being side by side, because although they always go back and forth with Atsumu, Gin and Kosaku, the two always end up separating from those three since in all the occasions they have an excuse to do it and in other occasions they don’t need words because the two end up finding themselves alone without realizing it. He wants his answer to realize that he sometimes forgets that Hyogo is small compared to Tokyo, and that therefore, he thinks that everything is assured when in fact it’s not, because the world seems small but it’s not.

He wants to answer that he has been frowning since they have touched the doorbell of the house they are in and Akaashi Keiji, Fukurodani’s captain and setter, probably a model in the eyes of anyone, a face envied by anyone with a pair of eyes, decorated with a deep bluish look and black short curls that can’t even be described as messy, has opened the door for Suna to instantly show how much he has missed him after hugging him, as well as that the feeling is mutual because the gesture had turned into a hug. He wants to answer that he keeps frowning because in reality parties are not his favorite idea and he is only there because Suna invited him and he can’t say no to Suna, but if he can say yes or no, Suna doesn’t care since clearly Osamu can see, watch, and understand, that he is not the only one who has a great confidence with Suna. He feels jealous and he can only express his feelings through the frown installed on his face.

But he can’t allow all those thoughts to turn into spoken sentences because even though he is jealous and frowns, he is happy for Suna, since even if his smile is as rare as his, that night it seems to have appeared to stay on his face. So he just decides to be honest in another way, as he is used to do.

"The paint looks good on ya," He says, and it's worth it when Suna again decorates his face with his smile.

Saying words that seek its own balance between truth and lies, he is used to that.

"Do you want me to paint you?"

"No."

"Didn't you just say you like the paint?"

"I just said it looks good on ya." Osamu repeats.

"It'll look good on you too." Suna assures him.

And again, Osamu really can't say no to him.

"Nothin’ weird like yers."

"Hey!" Suna is the one to frown but then raises two of his fingers. "Two lines."

"Fine."

Suna stands up for a few seconds to then sit down again with a case on his lap that appears to be loaded with different cosmetics. "Color?"

"Orange. I don't want to look like Itachiyama."

Suna giggles as he seems to search for makeup in the chosen color. "That was funny."

Osamu smiles, but quickly stops smiling as Suna takes out a small pot of neon orange paint and wonders how many consequences he can suffer for not being able to say no to Suna. His certainly broken heart because suppressing the truth hurts, is proof enough that saying no is not an option when it comes to Suna.

"Just two lines. Don't make that face." Suna throws him a glance before opening the pot to sink his index finger into the pot and then move closer to him, their knees touching.

Osamu only has time to swallow dry before Suna rests one of his hands on his cheeks and then keeps still —although Osamu doesn't dare to move anyway because he also feels that his muscles have remained totally rigid from the second that Suna's hand was rested on his face and Suna had increased the contact between them after carefully placing the tip of his index finger on his cheek to start a horizontal line.

He knows that the one who must be focused is Suna because he doesn’t want to make a mess of paint on his face, but he can’t help turning the moment into a mutual activity after resting his eyes on his face, glimpsing that the little heart in his cheek has clearly been drawn with a make-up pencil because there is no way that a finger can be so neat, although Akaashi Keiji being the author, it wouldn’t surprise him because Akaashi is perfect. He continues to run his eyes over his skin until he finds gold, gold that doesn’t correspond to his request because it’s true, Suna is focused on drawing a horizontal line.

A line that seems to have been achieved in a satisfactory way because Suna removes his hands from his face and moves slightly away to then raise one of the corners of his mouth and repeat the same actions as before after again sinking his other finger in the pot and then returning to approach him, though this time he leaves his right hand near his jaw, probably so that he doesn’t have the opportunity to touch the line just made on his right cheek, and feels his eyes between both cheeks to make sure that he is drawing that line at the same height as the previous one.

Osamu looks at him, watches his eyes finally focus on his left cheek as he begins to trace the line with his finger, and he remains totally rigid.

His gaze slides to Suna's lips, not being surprised to find his mouth simply closed instead of forming a line with his lips or holding the tip of his tongue out indicating concentration because he is sure that Suna is more than used to staying focused. When applying makeup to someone else or himself, since Osamu never overlooks that most days he appears with a black line around his eyes, the gold of them attracting his attention even more, in a more intense way and forcing him to look, to feel that he has an excuse to be able to cross his gaze with Suna's for as long as he wants, which at that moment makes him take his eyes off his lips to once again rest on his eyes and realize that unlike all the previous times, his eyes remain free of any paint.

Suna pulls away from him and smiles, satisfied with the two orange lines on Osamu's face.

"Hey, it's weird," Osamu says.

"What?"

"Yer not wearing eyeliner."

Suna's eyes widen as soon as he hears the last word and his face makes it clear that it is as if he has just heard that he has forgotten his phone on the train to Tokyo or that his favorite brand of chuupets has closed because no one buys it. "I forgot!" He exclaims before quickly reaching for what he needs in the case next to him.

Osamu chuckles and keeps looking at him. "Stupid. Pretty stupid."

Suna looks at him with narrowed eyes for a second to then change his expression once he takes out a black eyeliner as well as a small rectangular mirror that Osamu takes, rather accepts without complaining when Suna gives it to him, and without needing Suna to say it, Osamu holds it at the level of their faces as Suna closes one of his eyes and leaves one of his hands near the left one, being careful not to touch the heart painted on his face. Osamu confirms that Suna is used to being delicate when necessary because he draws a black line above his eyelid as if it were a straight line on a paper. He corrects minor details after filling in black and proceeds to do the same with the other eye.

"I'm so stupid," He says without taking his eyes off the mirror.

"D’you expect me to deny it?"

Suna shoots him a fleeting glance and Osamu forms a line with his lips to avoid smiling.

"I was distracted," Suna mutters, again focused on his makeup.

"With what?"

Suna straightens up and looks at him again before closing the eyeliner and getting another one of orange color. "Something," Is the only thing he says before closing his eye and drawing a thick line above the black line.

Osamu avoids sighing because what else can he do when the boy he likes is millimeters away from him, decorating his face like he’s not beautiful and striking enough to draw the attention of everyone around him no matter where they are?

"Mysterious."

Suna ignores his word as he continues to put on makeup and for the first time Osamu stops looking at him to look around them, realizing that at some point the people had left because they are alone. Atsumu and his infatuated child attitude aren’t there. Akaashi and his blue eyes are missing. They are in Akaashi's room on the top floor of the house, but there’s still no music bouncing off the walls or the murmur of people talking, rather shouting over the music in the background; so he assumes that everyone has finished preparing and they are the only ones still there because without eyeliner, Suna can’t exist.

"Are you in a hurry?" He listens, and turns his gaze to Suna.

"Not really." He replies.

Suna has already started to apply make up on his other eye and his arms still don't bother him for continuing to hold the mirror in front of them, he should probably give himself credit for being a volleyball player because anyone else would have probably gotten tired. If Suna has also noticed that they are alone or not, he doesn’t mention it since he is still focused on putting on makeup, until he again stays away and at that moment a new brief contact is formed between them when Suna takes the mirror from his fingers and brings it closer to his gaze to see if he has any details to review. He doesn’t seem to find any but Osamu watches him anyway, delighting in being able to observe him not because he is looking for some imperfection, but because he knows that he will find what he considers perfection.

Suna puts everything in the case and with his gaze on it, asks, "Are you planning to go down like that?"

"Mhm?"

"Your shirt." Suna replies in a neutral tone.

And it’s at that moment that Osamu remembers that his black shirt remains unbuttoned, exposing his torso to the cold of late October that he has never really felt because seeing Suna being totally confident with Akaashi and then in front of him decorating his face with paint and make up that at that moment brings out the gold in his eyes when their gazes meet, it has been enough to make him forget that he had forgotten to button his shirt since he had forgotten everything as soon as he had seen Suna come out of the bathroom. But instead of worrying about the same thing, he arches an eyebrow because Suna has noticed.

"What if I do?" He decides to ask.

Osamu knows that he is not Atsumu. He knows it better than anyone. What he just did is a gesture his brother wouldn’t have hesitated to make in case Kita was at the party and they were still at the stage where they looked at each other without accepting the intentions behind those looks. He is not stupid, he knows that if Suna has noticed that detail it’s because he has been watching, remaining attentive to him, and if in order to make Suna remain with his attention on him he has to put up with Atsumu saying that now he is the exaggerated one for not using a shirt or buttoning it up, he's willing to do it.

And when at that moment Suna lowers his newly decorated gaze to his torso to admire the lines that delimit his skin, he knows that it doesn’t matter if his shirt has all the buttons or not because that night he doesn’t plan to button them.

"Then you have to let me do something." Suna expresses.

Osamu watches him take out a bigger pot than all the previous ones and arches an eyebrow when Suna opens it to reveal that it’s neon pink paint to then sink his hands until the palm of his right hand is completely painted by it. He follows the movement of his hand until it’s spread on his right pectoral.

Suna leaves his hand on his skin for a few seconds and then removes it to reveal that his palm print is now marked on his chest in neon pink. Osamu looks at him and Suna smiles at the same time that he bites his lower lip.

"You are mine now."

Osamu raises both eyebrows and an inevitable smile appears on his face. "I'm yers?"

Suna points to his chest. "That's your heart."

Osamu shakes his head and then tilts it to look at him.

"Suna."

"What?" Suna looks at him concerned because that tone of voice is the one Osamu uses when he knows that he will express a reason to have in his favor when he expresses that he is (pretty) stupid.

"My heart is here." Osamu points to his left pectoral.

"Fuck." Osamu laughs and Suna does it for him, too. "I don't like Biology."

Osamu continues laughing, taking the irony of the situation as a bad joke that really makes him laugh because Suna is not able to know where his heart is but he does know how to break it as well as excite it just by showing that sometimes he is right when he says that he’s pretty stupid. His heart belongs to him and Suna doesn't even know where it is. An irony, Osamu thinks, because that is his reality.

"Pft. Ya really are distracted, huh."

Suna looks at him but then lowers his head with a slight smile on his face. "You have no idea."

Osamu watches him, wondering what is going through his head, what is distracting him.

Who is a distraction enough not to know where his heart is.

He doesn’t want to know the answer, so instead of saying something he takes Suna's right wrist, getting him to raise both his head and his eyes to observe the way in which he brings his hand towards his chest and opens the palm of his hand just before it’s resting on his left pectoral, at the same height as the other impression.

"Now I am yers."

The two look at each other. Osamu feeling the gold of Suna's gaze while Suna remains completely still because his hand is still on Osamu's chest and he doesn't want to move it so as not to ruin the imprint on his skin. They are used to silence, to it appearing and disappearing because for them it’s not a problem, and although that continues to be the case, both feel that at that moment it’s enough to perform the slightest of movements to cut with it. They are at the end of October, closer to winter than autumn, but cold is what they least feel and for the only reason why their cheeks are not accompanied by a reddish tint is because they already have enough color on their faces.

"Mine." Suna says softly even though only the two of them are in the room, and Osamu finally lets go of his wrist. "What about you?"

"Me?"

"You don't want to touch the paint?"

Osamu smiles. "Ya wish," He says, not hesitating to sink his hands into the pot of orange paint, purposely looking at Suna while making sure that the palms of his hands are well covered with them because Suna wrinkles his nose knowing that he shouldn’t have done that question.

He can’t stain his clothes and his face already has makeup on, so again Osamu thinks that perhaps, just perhaps, he must have a little luck because he has no other option but to rest his hands near his jaw, the impressions of his thumbs marking his throat, noticing that for the same reason Suna doesn't swallow. His fingertips are etched on the underside of his cheeks and he hopes Suna won’t get mad at him if he has also smeared the start of some of his dark chocolate locks with paint.

For the only reason that he doesn’t take advantage of the moment to give him a caress is because if he does, the same evidence of paint will be scattered on his skin, so he chooses to look at him while Suna doesn’t take his gaze away from him, not even when he finally removes his hands from his skin and Suna doesn’t look for the mirror to fix the marks that are now on his body.

"There."

"Right in the middle of my neck." Suna tells him with a serious expression that is not at all severe.

"Excuse me?" Osamu sees his own chest and then sees him again.

"Fine, fine."

They both look at each other again, and can't help but laugh when they realize that the palms of their hands are bathed in neon pink. Suna looks down at his hands marked on Osamu's chest while Osamu keeps his eyes on Suna's neck.

Stupid love in the form of neon paint left on different parts of their bodies.

If it's some kind of statement, they don't comment on it. Excuses are all they seek and thus excuses are all they carry out. To stay close, to form physical contact, to declare in different ways that they want to continue being next to each other. The arguments already become natural and sometimes there is no longer any reasoning behind the same. Seeking to be side by side is natural, staying side by side is natural.

Osamu thinks that is his situation, until they finally stop looking at each other once they hear a slight sound, and both turn their heads to spot Akaashi at the door at the same time that music reaches their ears as well as the murmur of people talking.

"The party has just started, do you want to come?" He asks them.

"Sure!" Suna responds, not sounding entirely convinced.

Osamu spots the exchange of smiles between the two and Akaashi leaves.

Suna looks at him. Osamu is getting tired of hiding the truth. He follows Suna with his eyes when he gets up to head to the door.

"Suna." Osamu says.

"Right!" Suna changes direction to go to the bathroom because his hands have paint on them.

Osamu laughs and wonders what Suna would do without him.

And then wonders, what would he do without Suna.


	4. Chapter 4

Osamu doesn’t like parties. It’s a lot of noise, way too many people, everyone exaggerates their senses. The reality is, though, that the people around him carrying glasses in their hands are only drinking juice or water because it’s a small gathering with neon colors. Osamu doesn't care. He finds himself in a sea of unfamiliar faces that he doesn’t seek to make familiar because he is in Tokyo and in a couple of hours he will find himself coming back home, so he really doesn’t waste time in pretending a smile on his face or a good attitude. His brother tends to tell him that if people want him, there is no way they will lie about it because if they accept him with his serious expression and how reluctant his personality can be at times, then they infiltrate his life to stay and not leave.

And much less does he like parties when around him most of the lights are off to allow some clothing items as well as makeup and accessories to shine because they are neon in color. Orange, green, yellow, pink. Osamu wonders how Sakusa and Komori are able to wear their school uniform because he has only been there for a few hours and already wants to rub his eyes, hoping that once he opens them again, all the lights will be on and the neon bright colors will be removed from his field of vision. Everything shines but he doesn’t feel happy. People are having fun, it's a party at the end of it all. But he remains seated in one of the corners of one of the couches, watching how around him people talk and sing the lyrics of the songs above the music, or at least try to. He checks that parties are definitely not his thing, and that if he could go home right then, he would. But he doesn't.

He doesn’t because there is something, _someone_ stopping him from doing so.

Someone with pink heart-shaped glasses on top of his dark brown locks.

Osamu is aware that he has lost count of all the opportunity he has had to admire Suna's profile. He doesn't know what kind of gods Kita always talks about, but he does know that he is grateful because Suna is his classmate and the same action has led him to be distracted by running his eyes over his face, thinking that he doesn’t really have the right to tell him that he should correct his posture because his back often hurts and he does nothing to stop the discomfort. It's an irony, he thinks, because the same goes for his emotions.

Because although at that moment he is looking at Suna, a smile doesn’t decorate his face. Suna is with Akaashi, again, talking, laughing, enjoying the party, the night. Osamu doesn't want to be upset because he's happy to see Suna happy, but a part of him is selfish because he sees him being happy with someone else.

A bottle of water interrupts his visual field.

He rolls his eyes although he grabs the bottle because he only needs to turn his head to watch his brother sitting on the back of the couch, giving him an annoyed smile that indicates that he knows the reason for his serious face and the furtive gaze directed towards him. Of course his twin is holding a glass in his hand, of course he's enjoying the party, of course he already has at least three more neon accessories around his neck.

"Didja poison it?" Osamu asks opening the bottle, grateful that his brother is close enough not to have to raise his voice too much.

It's cold. He needs it. It bothers him to know that his brother knows that he needs it.

"No," Atsumu denies before bringing the glass to his lips to take a sip. "If I wanted to kill ya, I wouldn't do it in front of so many people."

Osamu takes a big sip of water and his brother only raises both eyebrows because the action makes it clear that he is not having a good night. Osamu closes the bottle and chooses to tear the cap off of it with his fingernail while his brow remains furrowed, but then he stops doing it as soon as he remembers that his brother has told him not to do it anymore unless he wants Atsumu to have the title of the prettiest twin, so he chooses to rest his gaze on him.

"I don’t get it."

"What?" Atsumu leans over to hear him.

"Why me," Osamu stops to correct himself. That’s the thing, maybe the situation is not about _him_. "Why does he invite us if he won't be with us later, it doesn’t make any sense." He raises his voice not because the music compels him, but because he needs to express his emotions in some way or another.

Atsumu doesn’t need him to say that he is talking about Suna because all night the two of them along with Gin and Kosaku have been together until Gin, Kosaku and Atsumu have joined a round of beer pong, water pong actually, that seems to have come to an end because now his brother is again with him, while Suna continues to talk to someone other than them.

"Cuz it's a party and people tend to socialize y’know." Atsumu raises his voice, dedicating those words to him as if Osamu didn't know the obvious. "But of course, you don't like parties so you don't know what to do."

"Why are ya talkin’ to me then?"

"Cuz I'm a good friend. And brother, twin, Samu. Yer older brother, fortunately for ya. When will ya tell him how ya feel?"

"Never."

Atsumu rolls his eyes at his response and turns away from him only to cast a disapproving look in his direction. "Jealousy is speaking for ya. Y’know that I was in yer same place and you know everythin’ I went through."

"But I’m not ya, and Suna ain’t Kita-san. My situation is different."

"It ain’t different. You like Sunarin. A few months ago ya told me that ya will never have a more difficult conversation than the one ya had with me when we talked ‘bout followin’ different paths, so why can't ya talk to Sunarin?"

Osamu shakes his head instead of answering and again opens the bottle to drink a sip of water that that time he feels doesn’t make any difference when he again leaves his sight on Suna and Akaashi. They are still together, they are still talking and smiling at each other. He knows that his brother is probably looking at him negatively, but they both rest their attention on the same person when a girl with short purple hair sits across from Osamu on the couch, seeming to be totally familiar with the house they are in. She is wearing a black dress and even more neon necklaces than Atsumu.

"How are you guys? Enjoying the night?"

Her gaze seems somewhat downcast but a confident smile remains on her face.

Osamu avoids rolling his eyes although he does so inwardly, because even if his brother is the one who has just told him that parties are for socializing, an activity that he clearly does not know how to do, Atsumu is the same one who remains silent, observing the girl while Osamu is the one who chooses to speak up because he knows that unlike all the other faces at the party, the girl next to him is not someone totally unknown.

"We know ya." He says.

Her smile only spreads. "Probably because of nationals. I was Fukurodani's manager." She mentions, and finally the familiarity on her face makes sense. "Yukie Shirofuku." She presents herself by extending a hand that Osamu takes with his.

"Osamu Miya."

"Tell me, Osamu Miya, why are you looking at Akaashi in a bad way?"

Osamu, who wants to smack his brother's head because Atsumu lets out a laugh, must stay with the desire to do so because from one moment to the next his brother disappears to leave him with the girl whose hand he stops holding and whose presence again makes him remain serious because his question is not to his liking.

"You don't like parties?" She adds.

"No."

"And why did you come?"

Osamu stops looking at her to rest his eyes on Suna, although he quickly looks back at Yukie when he realizes that Suna is looking at him.

"I thought it would be a good idea."

"And why don't you go?"

Her question is not accompanied by malice, but simply a matter of common sense, because if he is not having a good time, what is he still doing there?

"Cuz I'll sleep here."

"So why are you giving Akaashi a bad look?"

One of the corners of Osamu's mouth wrinkles. "Sorry, my brother is a setter. Naturally, I don't like his species." He replies, knowing that his answer doesn't make sense so he keeps talking just for the sake of it. "I—" He really wants to reply that he's not giving Akaashi a bad look. "I don't." Instead of explaining himself, he lets out a weary sigh. "Whatever."

"Did you eat before drinking?"

"Huh?"

"Eating before drinking is important."

Osamu shakes his bottle when he hears her. "It's water, I don't like to drink, and I know it. I like food."

Yukie widens her eyes. "Really? Me too."

Osamu finally becomes interested in the conversation when he hears her words.

"What d’you like?"

"Onigiri. A lot."

For the first time since people have arrived and any kind of tranquility has been suppressed by the group of joyful teenagers with the music in the background, Osamu's expression transforms to hold a calm smile on his face. It’s true that his brother has more social skills than he does, but the difference is that while Atsumu speaks, he listens.

"Me too."

"I heard you cook, and really well."

"How?" He asks, narrowing his eyes.

"Akaashi." Yukie turns to rest her eyes on him and then turns back again. "From your friend, apparently."

Friend.

Sometimes reality is thrown against his face in the form of a word.

Osamu stops looking at her to rest his eyes on his _friend_.

Suna and Akaashi are still talking, but smiles are no longer decorating their faces. "Yeah, they talk all the time, huh," He says, watching them before returning his eyes to Yukie.

She smiles. "Akaashi must care about him very much. When I was still a manager, he used to say that Suna is a great player."

"He is."

"You too."

"Thank you," Osamu says a little surprised, since his brother is usually the one to stand out when the topic of volleyball usually comes up in any conversation. "Do you miss school?" He asks, since he doesn't want to talk about volleyball but he ends up liking Yukie.

"Sometimes. Do you plan to continue playing volleyball?"

"No."

"Something with food?"

One corner of his mouth lifts up, and he nods. "I hope so."

"Well, I don't know what you'll do but I promise to visit you." She assures him.

"I'm not from Tokyo."

"I know. But we never know. Maybe someday. I will be your client. Deal?" Yukie stretches her hand out again.

Osamu sees her hand, then her and her hand again before deciding to take it with his for the second time, this time the grip being totally friendly. "Deal."

"Are you enjoying the party now?"

"Kinda," Osamu responds sincerely, as although he would still prefer to be in his own home, he can’t say that it’s a terrible night if he has met someone who likes food more than volleyball, just like him. "Are you enjoying it?"

"More or less."

"Why?

"My girlfriend is sick and she couldn't come but she told me to come anyway," Yukie replies, "But it's nice to see the team again." She mentions seconds before the noise of something crashing is followed by a couple of screams that even he recognizes. "And apparently they still need me." She adds, letting out a sigh, he understanding her because the one who had yelled had been nothing more and nothing less than Bokuto Koutarou. "It was nice meeting you, Osamu."

"Same."

He follows her with his gaze when she gets up and a laugh escapes his lips when he watches her leave her calm side in oblivion to rest her hands on her waist and observe the group of people certainly commanded by Bokuto, but even the former captain Fukurodani dressed in fluorescent colors and seemingly stained with paint all over his body ceases to be his focus of attention when he feels the cushion next to him sinking and he is met with a golden gaze surrounded by black and orange.

"Hi," Suna says.

"Hi," Osamu repeats. "And Akaashi?" It's the first thing he asks because he looks around only to find him nowhere to be found, being surprised that he is not behind Suna.

"Being the party organizer, more like scolding Bokuto."

"Huh." Osamu doesn't plan to add anything else, so he opens the water bottle to take a big sip while Suna chooses to lean over the back of the couch so that he can rest his hands on top of each other and then one cheek to watch him.

"All good?" Suna asks him.

"You?" Osamu stares at him.

"I asked first."

Osamu keeps looking at him, barely tilting his head so that their eyes can meet in the right way. He can feel the irritation gnawing at him despite not showing it on his face, although he thinks that some trace of it must seep into his expression because otherwise Suna wouldn’t have asked him if everything is alright.

He bites the inside of his lower lip without ignoring the way in which Suna slides his eyes towards that gesture and then sees him again. And he wonders, if Suna is able to decipher that that simple movement implies annoyance, because he is sure, he is convinced that Suna knows that he is upset, why is he not able to realize everything that happens to him for him? Of everything he feels for him?

He knows that blaming Suna for not realizing everything that he causes is easier than accepting that in reality that situation is his fault because he doesn’t dare to be completely sincere and therefore express in words that he is upset, that he is irritated because he doesn't want Suna to be happy with someone other than him. Because he wants to have the right to be selfish and to be able to express that he wants Suna to be with him. But he doesn’t admit the truth because he is afraid and emotions are always something that can imply fear, and because if in all that time he hasn’t opened his mouth to be honest, it’s because he prefers to continue suffering than to lose his friendship with Suna in case his thoughts are wrong.

"D’you like Akaashi?"

Suna straightens up, his neutral expression turning into one of utter confusion.

"What?" He asks as if Osamu had asked him if he wanted him to break his phone.

"If you like Akaashi. He’s pretty, ain’t he?"

Suna narrows his gaze and it’s clear to Osamu that the neon of it doesn’t diminish the level of intensity and intimacy of it. "Is this your way of telling me that you like Keiji?" He asks him, "Because he has—"

"No." Osamu cuts him off. "You seem to be happy with him."

"Well of course. I miss him." Osamu raises both eyebrows and forms a line with his lips. "What?"

Osamu is aware that he is making him angry because he knows how to detect when Suna is just as irritated as he is, but at that moment he doesn’t care and decides to be selfish. "You didn't deny that you like him."

"Osamu."

He is also aware of the seriousness that accompanies his serious tone of voice but he leans toward him anyway, their faces remaining just a few inches away not making him nervous because he is used to being close with Suna. That is his painful reality.

When they decide to turn their heads at the same time when it’s three in the morning and they continue talking, lying side by side because they prefer to talk to each other than to give the dark circles of their eyes a break, when Suna hurts one of his fingers by blocking and Osamu helps him to bandage his fingers, when Suna asks him to hold a smaller mirror so that he can give a special touch to his gaze after outlining his eyes with black. They are used to that closeness, and no matter how ironic it sounds, that is what bothers Osamu.

They are always close, but not really. It’s never enough, they never finish erasing that closeness and he no longer knows what to think about the same. He is irritated. With the situation, with Suna, with himself.

"I didn't know you like setters." Osamu says before getting up.

He hears Suna say his name but he doesn't care.

He does care but he no longer knows what to do. He doesn't want to be at that party if it means getting mad at anyone and himself because he knows that Suna doesn't deserve the words he's spoken. He just wants to leave but he can't, he doesn’t want to be surrounded by strangers or bright colors. All night he has been with a serious expression and his lips forming a line, indicating that his muscles are tensed because he had though it would be an opportunity to spend more time with Suna. He hasn’t taken into account that although they always create a world of their own, there’s still a world where there are more people, more chances and more distractions. Where Suna can stop paying attention to him as much if he wants to though Suna doesn’t stop reaching out.

So actually, he's not entirely surprised when someone grabs his wrist and he doesn't need to look up to know it's Suna because he's used to Suna grabbing him like that when he doesn't want to get up off the gym floor once they finish doing the drills, when he doesn’t want to get out of bed, although in reality most of the time it usually ends in a pillow against his face, or when he purposely stretches his arms so that Suna has to smack his hands because he’s bothering him just for the sake of it.

Because they do everything together. Even arguing, discussing, and at that time, again creating a world where only the two of them exist because neon lights cease to exist and the people around them go into the background when Suna turns on a light and suddenly a yellow light is the one in enlighten them since now instead of unfamiliar faces; a sink, a toilet, and a shower surrounds them.

Suna closes the bathroom door and Osamu lets out a sigh as soon as Suna stops keeping his fingers around his wrist.

"That was extremely rude." In front of him Suna crosses his arms and Osamu averts his gaze after running his face away because he knows he's right. "What?" Suna looks for his gaze anyway when he moves his head and Osamu stares at him. He looks at the pink heart-shaped glasses on his head, and then at him again. His makeup is still intact, his heart on his cheek unchanged. "If you didn't want to come to the party, you should have told me."

Osamu stops concentrating on the heart to look at him.

"I don't care about the party."

"So? Did you fight with Atsumu?"

"No."

Suna looks at him confused for a few seconds, wondering the reason for his evident bad mood as well as a serious expression that is totally different from what his neutral face usually is, until a possibility appears in his head, and it makes him to stay with one side of his body against the bathroom wall.

"Did you like that girl and it bothered you that I interrupted you?"

"What?" Osamu's face and voice finally change as confusion hits his facial features and incomprehension imprisons his vocal frames as he listens to what he considers a silly question, meaningless and free from all logic. "Rin." Osamu expresses part of his name because when he's frustrated he feels like he can't do anything else. He's tired, exasperated. The situation doesn’t make sense anymore. "What nonsense are ya saying? No. She has a girlfriend and you probably know it." He adds, realizing that those words aren't even worth adding because he wasn't interested in the girl he'd just met. "Just no."

Suna swallows because part of him feels calmer, but he looks at him anyway.

"Then why are you acting like this?"

Osamu corresponds to his gaze, their expressions softening.

Suna rests the side of his head against the bathroom door, and Osamu's gaze slides to the handprints on his neck, interrupting the paleness of his skin with traces of neon orange paint.

He wants to rest his hands on that part of his body again because his mind begins to wander with the chain of actions that that gesture could develop. Suna keeps looking at him and he continues to say nothing when he lifts his gaze so that their eyes can meet again.

He never waits for the right moment because he knows what the right words are. Because with Suna he never knows what to expect, everything is a mystery but at the same time it’s established. They are _best friends_ , they know it, they all know it. But Osamu wants more.

He wants to be able to decipher the meaning of the tension that appears when they are too close but at the same time they seem to still have a kind of distance between them. He knows that he likes Suna and that for the same reason he is dissatisfied with the type of relationship they continue to have, because when his mind begins to wander and therefore ends up thinking about what his situation would be like if he were able to express what he feels, his brain only gives him what his head can imagine since reality remains the same. But the fear of change always appears because a wrong step can turn into the worst of mistakes.

Osamu leans over and imitates him, leaving the side of his head against the door.

"Please tell me." Suna asks him.

_Tell him. The truth?_

He looks at Suna but no longer knows what to think about the intentions behind his golden gaze decorated in black and orange. He can feel him tense up as he straightens his shoulders, a gesture he only performs when his muscles tense and it seems as if his arms crossed over his shoulders are turning into a hug to embrace his own body. Osamu also tenses even though he was the one to approach, because just as being close to him relaxes him, it also tenses him. He doesn’t know what the next move will be, if Suna will continue to look at him silently, if he will lower his eyes to his lips because Osamu has discovered him and he can count all the times he has warned Suna sliding his gaze towards his mouth, or if Suna will speak again because minutes have already passed and silence has appeared to accompany them.

But again that is not a problem for them, since just as they are used to chatting about all the existing nonsense either at three in the morning when they can’t sleep, before or after training when they are in the locker room and they are still asleep although not so much to hold a light conversation, they are also used to treating the absence of words as just another friend. The problem is, that Osamu no longer wants silence, not when his mind tells him that they could use the absence of phrases in the air to carry out actions that his head has already repeated over and over again, assuring him that a friendship is not what he wants with Suna.

He's nervous because Suna doesn't speak either and doesn't know what to think.

He just knows that he doesn't want to stay angry or irritated because he doesn't want to stop feeling that he and Suna are always creating their own world in different ways. Even at that moment they continue to do so, because once again they are alone, away from the rest of the others after being the only ones behind that door, looking at each other and regardless of whether it’s a bathroom the place where they are, because the space doesn’t matter but the fact that they continue to stare at each other, none without running their eyes.

"You look nice."

He knows that it’s not an answer, not the words Suna hopes to hear. But anyway, he decides to pronounce those words aloud because he can’t remain with the same ones buried in his throat when Suna is in front of him, with his attention and his gaze fixed on him, with his interest only having the chance to be reflected in him unless he prefers to focus on the whiteness of the furniture around them or the color of the walls.

"Yer pretty." Osamu adds.

Whether he's completely asleep and still trying to wake up, his locks still somewhat disheveled once they arrive at volleyball practice on Saturday mornings, or when they wake up the next day, the morning light waking them up after the night they have spent almost without sleeping because they prefer to talk or enjoy each other's company. Either in class when a bored expression decorates his face, ensuring that the class in front of him is not of his interest or that the teacher turns out to be very boring, playing with a pencil between his fingers, pretending that he is listening while Osamu is sure that he is thinking of his cat.

Or in that moment, that same instant and second. With pink heart-shaped glasses over the dark brown color of his locks, a pink heart on his right cheek, the orange and black around his eyes highlighting the gold in his gaze even more, with his arms crossed but no longer tense because Suna is focused enough on him that he can focus on demonstrating with his body that the situation makes him tense.

His hands marked on his neck.

Suna watches him, and Osamu gulps before straightening up.

"Pretty stupid?" Suna asks, his expression no longer serious but neutral. "Yes, I know."

He shakes his head.

He can't fight anymore, and he can't keep making the same joke.

"No, just pretty."

Suna narrows his gaze as a slight blush decorates his cheeks.

Osamu avoids smiling because he knows that it’s not in his best interest to do so unless he wants Suna to be angry a second time that night.

"You keep avoiding my answer."

Osamu turns out to be the one who rolls his eyes because no matter how much they know each other, Suna doesn't seem to be able to read the lines behind his words, but he can't blame him either because he knows that he too is guilty for not confessing that feels the right way. Suna rests the palm of his hand on the door when Osamu looks at it and they both look at each other again.

"Miya Osamu. You're not going anywhere."

"You said Miya."

"Because you exasperate me." Suna moves to stand in front of the door and Osamu only moves an inch to stay in front of him. "Can you tell me what’s going on?"

Osamu rolls his eyes a second time because apparently telling the truth doesn't work for him either.

"D’you like Akaashi?"

Suna copies him by rolling his eyes.

"Again with that. No, no, and no. I don’t like him. And Keiji has a boyfriend, Osamu."

Osamu avoids looking at him in disbelief upon hearing the last words, realizing how deep he has dug his own grave because then all that night his jealousy has been a waste of time and hearing that then Akaashi doesn’t represent a threat makes him feel more relieved than it should. And stupid. Really stupid, too. Although he is not entirely surprised either because he has always thought about what he would do if one day Suna showed up to tell him that he was going on a date with someone, his brow furrowing at the thought being the answer to his own question.

"Ah."

Suna stares at him.

He’s stupid, he thinks. He thinks Osamu is as stupid as him.

He thinks Osamu is a fool because he has come to believe that Akaashi is the person he likes when he has never shown or done anything that implies that, while he also considers himself a fool because apparently all the clues he has left each time they have been together, it hasn’t been enough to assure him that Osamu is the person he likes, and that if throughout the night he has been with Akaashi, it’s because he himself has been telling him that he has to finish the kind of game that there’s between the two because otherwise the result will not be pleasant for anyone, that moment being evidence of the same.

"I’m just so tired." Suna lowers his head.

His glasses threaten to fall but Osamu places them on his head again, and if he takes the opportunity to stroke his hair, Suna keeps his head down.

It's really frustrating. Sometimes friendship and love are taken as antonyms while many other times it’s impossible to see the limits between both concepts. Fighting with himself nonstop is frustrating in the same way that hoping the color of his cheeks won’t betray him is a thought he no longer wants to hold.

Osamu swallows because he thinks he recognizes the frustration that accompanies his words, and lowers his hand to his face to place it on the cheek that doesn’t have a neon pink heart. "I’m tired, Osamu." Suna adds. He doesn’t look at him, and on the contrary, leans towards the contact. "I don’t like him, and I’m just so tired."

Love doesn’t always appear in the form of a perfect scene, a romantic movie where fireworks light up the darkness of the night, a chorus of angels is heard and butterflies are the ones to flutter inside their stomachs. Fireworks are bad, the darkness of the night is the company they are used to when they stay talking at night, any song is preferable to an angels choir, and instead of butterflies, nerves are those in shaking their bodies.

Suna is tired because he doesn’t want a bouquet of flowers or a box of chocolates.

He wants Osamu’s company and presence. He wants Osamu. He likes Osamu.

"I like someone else."

Yet the fear is still there. If he wants Osamu, then it also means that he doesn’t want to stop being his best friend. Being best friends is nice, wonderful, but it’s not enough.

Osamu bites the inner part of his lower lip as part of his seriousness comes back to take over his expression. A sigh passes Suna’s lips.

"He's stupid." Suna assures him. "Very stupid." _You are, and I am, so stupid._

"And why do you like him then?" Osamu asks him.

Finally, Suna looks at him. "I don't know." He answers.

And he really doesn't know.

He could have fallen in love with Kita, his previous captain as pretty as severe, he could have tried to think that Kita is the person for him because the reality is that anyone who says that Kita is not perfect will be called a liar. He could have fallen in love with Atsumu, because the reality is that since they have both been chosen captain and vice-captain, they have begun to spend most of their time together and therefore the dynamics between them as well as the closeness has improved because for the team to work they have to pay attention to each other. He could have fallen in love with Akaashi, with his calm facial features that Suna actually knows is accompanied by loud thoughts.

But he hadn't, because while Kita had commanded the team, Osamu had been the one to take his hand, taking advantage of the fact that Kita seemed to be distracted chatting with Atsumu so that they could both leave practice a few minutes before. Because although Atsumu is the captain and he is the vice-captain, at the beginning of the year they had both agreed that they would do their best not because they are the team leaders, but because the minute they don’t care about saving the ball, blocking the players on the other side of the net, bringing ten fingers under the ball, and taking the best decisions, is the minute that Osamu stops playing volleyball forever and they stop being teammates. Because although it’s true that he misses Akaashi and that living in different places has not managed to separate or break their friendship, when they speak, half the times Suna ends up telling him about some food that Osamu has made for him.

"Because he cares about me, or so I want to believe." Suna decides to add as Osamu decides to still leave his hand on his cheek. "But he's still a fool."

"Buy neurons for him."

Suna looks up and Osamu wrinkles his nose once Suna decides to unfold his flick his forehead.

He knows that love is a complicated concept from personal experience but he is tired of whatever type of relationship he has developed with Osamu. He no longer wants mixed signals or confused thoughts. He likes Osamu. It’s time to say it. He has to risk it all. Isn’t love about that?

"Okay, then come with me to buy them so I can measure your brain."

He feels that the nerves take over him as soon as he expresses those words, and Osamu starting at him, his serious expression finally leaving his face to allow his gaze to be accompanied by surprise, doesn’t help him.

"What?"

"You're stupid." Suna expresses.

"I—" Osamu is ready to express the opposite but he only manages to remain with his mouth open, with many words to say and with many others to keep. He blinks several times, stunned even though the party is still on the other side of the door. By the way a blush, probably not wanted, decorates Suna's cheeks, he realizes that what he has heard is the truth. No more lies, no more attempts of saying but hiding at the same time. He has no choice but to accept the surprise on his face. This is a blessed nightmare, a cursed dream. "D’you like me?"

Suna crosses his arms again.

"Maybe you're not that stupid."

Osamu licks his lips and leaves his other palm on the door next to Suna's head. He stares at him, wondering if in fact the bottle of water that Atsumu had given him wasn't just water because Suna isn't denying that he likes him.

"You like me." He says aloud.

Suna shrugs. "I don't like setters." He says, staring at him. Osamu bites his lower lip because he knows he is saying those words only because minutes ago he had blamed him for doing the opposite. "I like wing spikers."

Inevitably one of the corners of Osamu's mouth curls because it’s the only thing he can do when it’s clear to him that everything he has always imagined has not only been a product of his imagination. Suna stands in front of him, through different ways assuring him that he is the person he likes, that he likes him as much as he likes him.

"I like middle blockers."

Suna holds up a wide smile but wipes it off his face on purpose.

"Keiji’s boyfriend is, was, a middle blocker," He tells him. "Also, I guess there are more middle blockers here."

The two look at each other smiling, both knowing that Osamu had talked about Suna but that Suna had expressed those words anyway just so they could continue to make sure that they like each other, that they can’t focus on someone else when they are face to face because they don’t want to. There’s no more room for doubts or unanswered questions. The final set had come to an end and they only have to celebrate.

"No." Osamu shakes his head as he slides his hands towards his nape. "You."

"Really?" Suna challenges him.

"Yes." Osamu repeats without hesitation.

Because telling the truth is liberating, it's what he has thought about doing more times than he wants to remember. Because he has always been sure that there is something more between him than Suna than a simple friendship where two people get along, but not completely sure enough to dare to change the environment around them. But the reality is that their emotions change them, their feelings force them to speak with honesty because they can no longer escape, and besides, they are already tired of doing so.

Suna looks at him before moving his arms to leave his hands where they had previously been and there’s evidence of the same because at that moment his fingers rest on the same neon pink imprint that he had previously marked on Osamu's chest.

Osamu no longer cares if Suna can feel his heart beat or if it’s bouncing against his chest because there is nothing to hide anymore, he should no longer hide what he feels and is free to do whatever he wants, to show what he feels. He stops leaving his hand on his nape to rest it on his hand and they both look at each other as Osamu gives him a light caress with his thumb.

"Mine." Suna declares looking at him.

Osamu wrinkles his nose, his smile still intact. "Y’know, I've heard that callin’ mine someone you love can actually be toxic cuz it's like treating the person as yer property rather than, y’know, a person." He stops talking when Suna exerts slight pressure on his chest with his hands, assuring him that although his smile is as big as his, he is already tired of his meaningless paraphrasing. Osamu takes that action as an incentive to stop keeping the palm of his hand on the wall as well as the other on Suna's hand to move them towards Suna's neck, where previously he had also left evidence of the fact that they had played with paint.

He caresses Suna's jaw with his thumb and his fingertips can feel the way he swallows. Osamu stares at him.

"Promise me this ain’t cuz I dunno, you drank something that ain’t water." He tells him, though he's sure Suna hasn't allowed a single drop of alcohol to enter his system either. "Nor cuz you want to make someone jealous." He adds, even if Suna has just assured him that he doesn't want to make someone jealous. "Nor cuz we're at a party." He continues, although the atmosphere for them is not a relevant detail after being in a bathroom, with the light on and the music and people on the other side of the door. "Nor cuz—"

Suna is finally the one to make the first move after cutting all trace of distance between them by joining his lips to his, because he knows that Osamu can no longer think of any more excuses that will make him think that that moment is only part of something else instead of something simple, true and genuine. Osamu is aware of it because his senses are aware of Suna and for the same reason his hands remain on Suna's neck as he decides to reciprocate the kiss instead of walking away.

And it feels good.

It feels so, _so_ good.

They are thoughts becoming reality, emotions expressing themselves and words being silenced because they are used to silence and this time it accompanies them in the form of a satisfied desire. They both smile because finally there is no lack of communication or words left unsaid. Suna's hands slide up to stop being on his chest and thus surround Osamu's neck with his arms, drawing him closer to him, getting Osamu’s skin to meet the neon green of his shirt. His back feels the door behind him but he doesn't care because the only thing he can focus on is the feeling of warmth and familiarity that Osamu's lips on his offer.

There are no nerves, there is no doubt, there is no confusion.

There is no place for questions because both are aware that they have been in love with each other in the same way, silently but also confessing through different ways and phrases on different occasions, by leaving the last piece of food or putting a phone away. It's stupid, they're stupid, and they've repeated it to each other more times than they can count. But it’s like this. So they are. Love is stupid and they know it best. Their emotions are finally being externalized and Osamu joining his tongue to the kiss, Suna promptly reciprocating is a sign that there is no room for regret either, neither of them can back down and call what is between them a mistake.

Osamu's fingertips brush dark brown hair while Suna’s finger finally, finally tours dyed gray hair again. Their lips hurt but it’s a good pain, since releasing emotions implies transforming into a reality all the kisses they have been dreaming with. Throughout the day, at night, in class, in the middle of practice. Love is so stupid. It blinds you and makes you see too many things, or almost nothing at all. Love creates misunderstanding that never really existed or complicates situations that were in fact so simple.

They break apart and press their foreheads together. Osamu licks his lips and Suna bites his lower lip, wanting to appropriate every possible trace of the kiss. Osamu runs his thumb along Suna's lower lip and they stay quiet, their chests rising and falling to recover the air they had forgotten to inhale after finally enjoying to awareness of mutual feelings. Through different ways they had confessed how they feel, Osamu decides that there’s no longer any need to be afraid to be completely sincere, totally honest, and nothing more than just straightforward.

"I like ya." He finally confesses.

And it’s so worth it when Suna smiles and their gazes meet again.

"I like _ya_." Suna repeats on his lips, his smile intact just like every time he imitates him.

Osamu narrows his eyes but keeps smiling because he can't stop doing it.

He thinks that not only is he lucky, he is very lucky. Maybe love is simple yet stupid and difficult, because there’s unrequited love and people who use love as an excuse to represent the opposite of what love represents, so knowing that his best friend holds for him the same feelings he has for him, it's satisfying, it's great, it's being lucky, very lucky.

"So all this time we could have been together."

"Yeah, but apparently we're just as stupid." Suna says, and it’s the truth, Osamu doesn't contradict him.

"D’you think the others are stupid too cuz they don’t know we are here?"

Suna wrinkles his nose and Osamu touches the tip of it with his own because he can. "There’s another bathroom in the house."

"Great. My turn then."

Osamu eliminates the distance between them without a doubt to kiss him again.

Love is stupid and to be stupid is to fall in love because it’s going downhill without really knowing what to expect. But for them, lying on the grass of the abyss instead of trying to climb the cliff sounds like the best of ideas. Maybe love is still stupid and they have no problem with it because they are just as stupid as love.


	5. Chapter 5

Suna narrows his eyes, he tries to focus. Unlike all the times when he puts on makeup and therefore his face remains serious yet free of any tension because he is used to doing it, at that moment the tip of Suna's tongue pokes out between his lips, indicating concentration and precision as the tip of his index finger slowly continues to interrupt skin darker than his with neon green paint.

"Suna, I can't really focus."

Suna stops moving his finger when Osamu looks at him over his shoulder, and corresponds his gaze at the same time that he outlines a small smile of innocence that Osamu doesn’t believe and for the same reason allows the same gesture to appear on his face. Osamu turns around again and Suna leaves the palm of his hand near his left shoulder and the muscles of his back to continue drawing the last letter of his name on the width of his back, since Osamu has decided —well, Suna has forced him to take off his shirt.

The party has already ended half an hour ago, so instead of people everywhere, dancing and singing, enjoying the music that now can’t be heard, only a couple of people remain in the house, helping to clean all the traces of a long night. The first rays of the sunlight are already highlighting the different colors of the kitchen, showing that at that time both are in that part of the house while the others clean since Osamu and his love for food are already as known as his dedication for volleyball.

"Y’know, I have a suspicion that yer with me just so you don't hafta clean up."

Osamu continues to feel Suna’s fingers on his back as he continues to churn milk and eggs in a bowl, missing the way Suna bites his lip as Suna can feel with his own hands, and glimpse, the way the muscles in his back and shoulders move with his arms and hands.

"How lucky I am, I hope you don't think it's because I want to be with you."

Suna smiles while biting his lip but lets out a complaint when Osamu purposely moves the muscles of his back and thus makes him have to stop writing on his skin, so he doesn’t hesitate to finish tracing the four letters of his last name exerting a little more pressure, making Osamu move his shoulder. "You're all tense." Suna adds.

"I know I can say the same about ya and I don’t even hafta touch yer back to corroborate it. Yer posture sucks."

Suna's brow furrows when he hears him. He knows that Osamu is right because he constantly has back pain and there isn't a day that goes by when someone utters the same words, but he still straightens up to hold a smile on his face that only manages to get Osamu to focus on him after looking at him over his shoulder because now the difference in height between the two is remarkable.

"Ya might be tall but yer still stupid," Osamu comments. "Now I won't be able to lean against any bed, couch or chair cuz of the paint." He mentions before returning to focus on lighting one of the burners in the oven in front of him to place a pan.

"I think that's not a problem, you will only have to lean against me." Suna finishes closing the space between them after pressing his chest to his back and crossing his arms over Osamu's chest, who turns to see him when he also leaves his chin on his shoulder.

The closeness feels good but, "Suna."

"Mhm?"

"Yer shirt is staining."

Suna focuses his gaze still decorated in orange and black in no special point, and anyway he remains in the same position even if Osamu is right and therefore his neon green shirt is staining with paint of the same color. "Fuck."

Osamu chuckles and Suna laughs because he feels the slight movement that Osamu's chest makes after expressing his amusement aloud. "Yer stupid." Suna narrows his gaze when he hears him. "And pretty." Osamu manages to get Suna to swallow whatever complaint he was about to say after he gets a kiss on the cheek, turning his expression into a smile.

Osamu turns his head and cuts a bit of butter to then melt it on the pan waiting for it to spread around the surface of it.

It feels good, it's the only thing he can think of.

The heart on Suna's face already seems like a big point just as Suna's palms on his chest have stopped having the shape of them after all the time they have spent in the bathroom, once again creating their own world, on that occasion finally allowing their hands to explore and their lips to know. No one had overlooked the smiles on their faces or the union of their hands once they had decided that they wanted to celebrate the reciprocation of their feelings and therefore enjoy the rest of the party with their friends, at all times staying side by side because jealous glances and misunderstood words are no longer necessary.

They both think that the difference is evident but not because it’s accompanied by a bad sense, but because that difference is what makes them smile, knowing that if they find themselves that way it’s because they were really tired of not saying anything, of hiding the way they feel for each other. Both Osamu and Suna think that this is how they should be, making breakfast for themselves and the rest of their friends while hugging and the rest cleaning the house.

"How ‘bout I give ya a new shirt for when we reach one month of relationship?" Osamu asks him, taking out half a ladle of the mix in the bowl to pour it on the pan and move it until a thin layer of mix covers the base, his eyes never failing to see it so that he doesn’t find the possibility of pancakes go bad from the start, but the rest of his senses finding himself alert to Suna's presence.

His chest against his back. His arms and hands on his chest. His face next to his.

Side by side, as they are used to being.

"One month?" Osamu rolls his eyes at the amusement in Suna's tone of voice. "Don't you think we're going too fast?" He asks admiring his profile, both knowing that his words are not serious because the hickeys hidden by the collar of his turtleneck indicate that they don’t mind going too fast.

"Oh, I’m sorry. Sure." Osamu pats the mix with a spatula, then peels off the edges of the mix and flips it so it browns on the other side as well. "Let's continue liking each other without sayin’ anything at all for many months, pretendin’ that we are fine with the friendship we have cuz we know very well how to handle our feelings, let’s just keep on thinkin’ that we want something more cuz we like bein’ best friends but we ju—"

Suna lets out a complaint at the same time that he hides his face in his neck and shoulder and Osamu laughs. They are both equally stupid. "Okay, fine, I get it, your accent can be so annoying sometimes." Suna expresses against the skin of his neck, his words making Osamu keep laughing because they tickle him. "Okay, for a month." He lets out a sigh, and Osamu turns his laugh into an entertaining smile because he knows the next words that will leave Suna's lips. "You don't mind if I stain your neck with orange and black, right?"

Osamu turns his head to see him, his makeup now being somewhat smudged but his facial features looking just as graceful as ever. By Suna's look on his skin he can tell that traces of makeup are on his neck, but he doesn't care.

"Ahem." He finally stops looking at him and they both turn to find Akaashi at the kitchen door, arms folded and one of his hips against the door frame. "There are rooms available." He adds, raising both eyebrows, his smile indicating amusement.

"We are innocent." They express at the same time, and they know they are not because they look at each other to laugh.

"Oya?" They both turn to find a second person at the door, poking out his head that is characterized by tousled black hair no matter what time of the day it is. "What do we have herOUCH!"

Both Suna and Osamu laugh at the complaint Kuroo lets out when Akaashi elbows him in the stomach after hearing his words and the entertaining tone of voice that accompanies them. "Don't bother." He says before turning to push him after the sight of them, Suna laughing again because he knows that even though they don't seem like it, Akaashi and Kuroo are dating. "Are you sure you don't mind making breakfast, Osamu?" Akaashi asks him.

Osamu shakes his head, Suna's arms still dangling from his shoulders slightly.

"It’s fine, I enjoy the company." Osamu looks at Suna and Suna looks at Osamu.

Suna feels Osamu's free hand on his and they both continue to look at each other with the same calm smile on their faces, making sure without the need for words that this is all they need, knowing that they both feel the same way, that their feelings are reciprocated.

They are about to forget that Akaashi is present until they stop looking at each other to stare at him, a smile decorating his face.

"Take care of him for me." Akaashi asks Osamu.

"Keiji." Suna expresses along with a small chuckle.

Akaashi only gives his a smile before leaving them alone again, and as soon as he leaves, they look at each other. Osamu thinks he's lucky because Suna's golden gaze is only focused on him while Suna thinks that he doesn't care that Osamu's gray eyes are due to the contact lenses, since he's the only one —besides Atsumu— who is used to seeing his grayish gaze, and the brown color of his pupils when he removes his contact lenses once it's late and they must sleep. Perhaps the color changes, but the feelings behind his gaze remain the same.

"So," Osamu surrounds Suna's waist as he turns around, getting Suna to wrap his arms around his neck. "Now I have to take care of ya."

"You don't want to make Keiji angry."

"Are you implying that I won't take care of ya?"

"You already do. Always."

Be it in the form of food, silent company, or sarcastic words when necessary, Suna believes that Osamu is always there for him in the same way that Osamu is sure that Suna is by his side.

"Y’know, you still owe me a kiss." Suna arches an eyebrow at this, so Osamu keeps talking. "The one you didn't give me at yer house that time." He adds, smiling because Suna understands that he is talking about when they have had dinner at his house and Osamu had asked him for a kiss on each cheek.

"I really wanted to kiss you that time."

"Me too. You can do it this time."

Suna bites his lower lip before choosing to listen to him and opting to rest his lips on his, without doubts or insecurities. Osamu looks at him and he kisses him this time. "I don't think—" He rests his lips on his again. "I'll ever get tired of this."

It’s certainly dangerous, now that they are free, it can become an addiction.

Suna looks over Osamu’s shoulder. "Pay attention to the food or it will burn and you'll make a bad impression."

"True." Although Osamu would rather stay that way, he chooses to turn around to continue busying himself with the food. "We don't want to make Akaashi angry."

Suna's arms meet his chest as well as his chest his back. "Of course not. You two eat like beasts."

"Cuz we know how to enjoy food. Not like ya."

"You know, he likes onigiri a lot, just like you."

"Are ya suggestin’ a double date or somethin’ like that?"

"With Keiji and Kuroo before your brother? He is capable of kicking us out of the team just because of that."

Osamu chuckles. "I don’t wanna have a double date if it means that ‘tsumu will be there. He will be insufferable, he is insufferable."

"But it also means that Kita-san will be there."

"Y’know, yer lucky that I understand yer crush on Kita-san."

Suna narrows his eyes as he looks at him and Osamu corresponds to his gaze.

"You can’t blame me."

"I don’t, but I hope ya blush in front of him if we ever have a double date."

Suna pouts. "Won't you stop bothering me now?"

"What?" Osamu lets out a laugh that makes Suna smile. "D’you think that just cuz we confessed to each other I will stop botherin’ ya? Hah, expect otherwise."

"Oh, what awaits me."

"Oh, what awaits me."

Suna narrows his eyes again and Osamu winks before focusing on the food.

"Y’know, I think I'll make an effort to get along with yer cat. Just for ya."

"What if my cat knew you liked me and he was trying to protect me?"

"Well, I would have told ya and this would have been easier."

"It's okay, I think. Feelings are complicated. Love is complicated."

Suna believes that loving is not easy. It’s true that love can appear easily, suddenly and without warning and you only have to accept it, but feelings can be complicated, many times difficult to accept, and much more, to confess. Declaring feelings is hard, and they know it.

"I don't know if I like how that sounds, y’know."

Suna understands his words. There are no instructions of any kind that indicate what to do when one imagines with confessing their feelings. There is no specific path to follow, and just as there are some people who believe that love is everything, other people don’t even believe that it’s important.

"But it could be like a recipe, right?" He suggests.

"How?"

"You know complicated recipes, right? But the result is good."

"Are ya using my language?"

"Yes, or I can use volleyball if you want to." Osamu throws him a glance and Suna winks. "This was all just a complicated set. We won the first set."

"What about the second set? Or the third set."

"I will win. I will win them all."

Osamu drops his gaze to his lips to then watch him again. "Save that spirit for the spring tournament."

"We will make it, we will win that too."

"Ya sure?"

"Don't doubt me. Not your brother. Not the team."

"I don’t. I like yer confidence." Osamu stares at him. "I like ya."

Suna wrinkles his nose and hides his face between his shoulder and neck again.

"Shut up."

"Nope. Now I will never stop sayin’ it. I like ya. I like ya. I like ya."

"Shut up." Suna mumbles against his skin, feeling the heat on his cheeks.

"Shut me up."

Suna straightens up to look at him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

Osamu smiles before returning to focus on the food, and he keeps smiling because the arms on his chest don't move. They had chosen not to say so many words in the same way that they had decided to kiss to confess the same after so long, that again silence is accepted as a good guest while Osamu continues to prepare breakfast with Suna by his side.

Perhaps it’s true that everything would have been easier if they had dared to express their feelings earlier, that many situations would have been easier to bear if they had chosen to tell the truth sooner. But it’s also true that at no time did they stop being side by side, certainly each suffering in their own way, but also together. Looking at each other, thinking of each other, imagining that losing each other is not something they want, be it as friends, best friends, or even more.

They ended up confessing their feelings in a bathroom, surrounded by cleaning products and towels, without any particular light that graced their faces as well as with no background song that at that moment they could remember because the party had continued but they had focused on each other. And maybe that's how it was supposed to happen after some misunderstandings, confused looks, and tired words. Perhaps their love story is not the greatest or the most spectacular, nor is it the most striking or the one that attracts laughter after many years. But it’s real and it has already begun, and for them, that’s enough.

"Y’know," This time Osamu does decide to interrupt the silence. "I think I already know what my favorite food is."

"What?"

He believes that the answer has been in front of him all that time, or rather by his side. His favorite food lifts his mood no matter what time of the day it is, brings a smile to his face, and increases his happiness levels.

Osamu turns his head to look at him and thinks that Suna's smile is the most beautiful sight. Their eyelids are already somewhat tired because they have spent the night awake, with traces of makeup and paint decorating their faces. He thinks Suna is pretty in the same way that he thinks he can't choose his favorite food because each flavor has its own advantages and disadvantages, but if there is one thing he is totally sure of, is that there’s a special flavor that for him turns out to be the most addictive.

"Yer kisses."

Suna shakes his head because he knows he should have expected that kind of question, but he still runs his eyes when his cheeks are decorated with a red tint, although the gold in his eyes soon meets gray again when Osamu leaves a kiss on his cheek. Suna looks at him, and contrary to Osamu, he doesn’t think they are lucky, quite the opposite. They have the worst of luck because they have taken their time to confess what they feel for each other, but if having bad luck is what at that moment allows him to join his lips to Osamu’s, then he is willing to declare himself the person with the most bad luck on the entire planet.

The pancakes end up burning.

Osamu blames Suna, Suna blames Osamu.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

They are ready to show that love is stupid and that they are stupid because they are in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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